


friends don't love me like you do

by sky_reid



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Consensual Infidelity, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Exploration, F/M, M/M, Open Relationships, Past Abuse, Queer Themes, Recovery, Unhealthy Relationships, hmmmm what else is there, i'll come back if i remember anything else, now, ok first off there's bg gwen/arthur and gwen/arthur/lancelot but its v v v minor, there's past merlin/practically everyone including arthur morgana gwen will freya and edwin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 04:43:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4905910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_reid/pseuds/sky_reid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>merlin is an asexual who falls in love easily and gwaine is a pansexual who's only been in love once. it shouldn't work, but somehow, it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	friends don't love me like you do

**Author's Note:**

> oops i'm almost late
> 
> ok so first things first: note how it says creator chose not to use archive warnings! while it's not on-screen and it happens in the past there's mental and emotional abuse, emotional manipulation and unhealthy relationships in this fic. also, while merlin never refers to it as such, it is heavily implied that he was raped or at least that some heavy dub-con was present during his abusive relationship. 
> 
> the scenes that are in italics are flashbacks (i went a little italics crazy at times sorry). the story is not written chronologically. camelot in this fic is based on uppsala.
> 
> currently only the first part of the story is beta'd; i will edit the story later when my beta gets back to me
> 
> thanks to everyone who's held my hand through writing this you are all amazing and thanks to my artist who stuck with me even when it looked like i wouldn't finish (art will be up shortly). this is so not how i imagined this story going, but give it a shot? i tried
> 
> go give love to [my artist](http://xcuri0sity.livejournal.com/) who also said _another year and another big bang. This one was quite the rollercoaster but it was fun. This post is lacking in art at the moment but I swear to you it will be in the story in a few days time (because what I need is time because life sucks) *pinky promise*_

_friends don’t love me like you do_

 

[ ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/tink_sky_reid/20949832/15564/15564_original.jpg)

 

_stage one: you know how sometimes you think everything is alright, everything is perfect, you’ve got it all and then one day something happens, someone walks into your life and you suddenly realize that something’s been missing all along and you start to wonder how you’ve gone your whole life without it? that’s how i felt about you_

*

 

It’s a very rainy, very dreary Sunday evening when Merlin first sees Gwaine.

 

*

 

He’s got his banged-up black suitcase standing at his feet, everything he owns stuffed haphazardly into it, and a key to a new apartment in his hand. People are bumping into him as they rush to get out of the rain, run home or head to meet someone, go out, celebrate; Merlin knows he’s in their way, doesn’t need the dirty looks and the sneers to get it, but he just. He can’t move.

 

His new place is right there, in the grey building in front of him with its façade falling off, on the second floor up where the windows are smudged and dirty and there’s only one set of broken blinds half rolled down. He’s been waiting for this day for a while now, looking for apartments, circling ads in newspapers and meeting with landlords, saving all his money so he could have for the first few months of rent, slowly but steadily preparing to be on his own again, and it’s here now, he’s got it, he should be happy, should run up into that shitty little hole of an apartment and celebrate because it’s _his_ , because he’s _free_ , but he stands there and lets the rain soak into his hoodie and run down the hard side of his suitcase and stares at the pub at the ground floor of the building, unable to go up. He thinks about calling someone, knows they would all still pick up, Arthur and Morgana and Gwen, they’d all come and help in a heartbeat if he asked. He’s not sure why he doesn’t. It just doesn’t feel right.

 

He wonders if people are noticing him in more than a _that idiot in my way_ kind. He’s been standing there for a while. If he stayed long enough, he wonders whether someone would ask him what he’s doing, if they’d offer to help or even just stare at him like he’s insane. It’s everything Edwin’s always said – nobody cares about him, nobody but Edwin. Merlin shakes his head to clear it. He’s been struggling all day, forcing himself to only think about the next thing on his to-do list so he won’t get too overwhelmed and change his mind, run back to their old apartment where he knows every nook and cranny and has a nice warm bed and—

 

And nothing. Merlin grits his teeth and takes hold of his suitcase. Edwin is behind him. It might take him a while to get used to that being his first instinct, he might have to remind himself for months to come still, but he’s done with that part of his life. He can’t let himself slip up and let the deceiving tint of nostalgia fool him into going back. Knowing that doesn’t make it easy though.

 

He wants to go upstairs, he _does_. He has no idea why literally everything else looks and sounds more inciting right now. There’s a pub right there. He could definitely use a drink right now.

 

At first he doesn’t even realize someone is speaking to him, not until there’s a hand being waved in front of his face and someone is yelling. “Hey! Hey, are you alright?” they’re saying. They being a long-haired, bearded guy with a tentative smile and slightly furrowed eyebrows in what appears to be mild concern. He has his leather jacket pulled up over his head and a pack of cigarettes in one hand. “Do you need help?” he asks.

 

Merlin opens his mouth to say that he’s okay, he doesn’t need anything, thanks; what comes out instead is a wet laugh that turns into a choked sob and then he’s breaking down and crying right in the middle of the street in front of this kind person he doesn’t even know. It’s embarrassing and ridiculous and he can’t stop.

 

“Okay, definitely not alright then,” the guy says, more to himself than to Merlin, Merlin thinks, but he feels the need to answer anyway; he doesn’t want to distract this guy from whatever it is that he was doing, doesn’t want to be a burden to someone. He shakes his head when the guy takes his suitcase from him and puts a hand on his shoulder. The guy misinterprets it, takes his hand away and apologizes, “Okay, no touching then, got it.” And Merlin is weak, has always been weak for people and touching and the moment the guy steps away he misses the warm weight of his hand. He says nothing though. “I assume you’re the person moving in today, yeah? You live right above me, come on, let’s get you settled in, yeah?” He takes Merlin’s suitcase and drags it into the building, only looks over his shoulder once to check that Merlin is following, doesn’t give him a moment to think before he has to react and Merlin recognizes it as a strategy Arthur and Morgana have used on him before, but it works, he’s up the stairs and in the apartment in a fraction of the time he spent trying to force himself to just walk into the building.

 

He pauses at the threshold as if an invisible force is physically preventing him from entering. He’s been trying to stop crying since the moment he entered the building, but now he can feel a fresh wave of tears coming up and he doesn’t even know _why_. He’s sniffling and standing there, a hand on the doorjamb and literally one foot inside, one foot out, stuck for no reason he can really pinpoint or explain. The guy puts his suitcase down in the single room, right next to the two pieces of furniture that come with the apartment, a rickety old bed and a set of dusty shelves that were once white. “I mean, I know it’s not much, but all it needs is a bit of love and it’ll be fine, yeah? It’s not _that_ bad, no need to cry,” he teases. Though it’s lame, it’s an attempt and Merlin appreciates it so he laughs a little anyway.

 

The guy takes a few steps closer. His head is tilted and his face has softened a little. He looks a bit sad. Merlin is not sure why. “Look,” he says gently, as if he’s talking to a scared child, “I don’t know why this is hard for you and I don’t want to presume, but it clearly is. So let me help you.” He reaches out and takes Merlin’s hand, tugs on it until Merlin has to take that final step and walk in and it’s funny, it seemed like the hardest thing in the world only seconds ago but the moment he’s in the room he feels light as feather, like he can breathe properly for the first time in what feels like forever and he might be breathing dust and the smell of damp mold, but he _is_ breathing. He’s not sure what his face does that makes the guy grin and say, “Okay, I know we said no touching, but you look like you really need a hug right now and if you don’t mind I really wanna give it to you because you totally deserved it.”

 

Merlin just nods dumbly and lets himself be enveloped in a pair of strong arms that wrap around his shoulders. The guy’s leather jacket is cold but soft, he smells faintly of cigarettes and cologne and his hair tickles over Merlin’s face. It occurs to Merlin quite suddenly that they are complete strangers, that this guy is nothing to him (except a neighbor apparently), yet he’s here, helping him. “I don’t even know your name,” he mumbles, the first words he’s said to someone all day.

 

The guy snorts. “It’s Gwaine. Nice to meet you…?”

 

“Merlin,” Merlin offers, more to Gwaine’s jacket than the man himself. He’s probably getting snot and drool all over it. He should apologize for that, he wouldn’t want to be rude. When he goes to step away though, he realizes how close Gwaine’s face is and yeah, that’s probably it, Merlin should definitely thank him and Edwin’s taught him how to at least do that right, so he leans closer again, tilts his head and kisses Gwaine. It’s the first time he’s kissed someone new in almost two years and it’s different because Gwaine is taller, warmer, his beard tickles and scratches and he’s—

 

“Whoa, hang on there.” Oh, he’s pushing Merlin away. Merlin hadn’t thought he’d done something wrong. “Not that I’m not flattered or interested or anything like that,” Gwaine says, a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and his thumb pressing firmly into the bone as if to keep him at a distance, “but I really don’t think we should be doing this right now.”

 

“Oh.” Merlin hardly knows Gwaine and he must have been rejected before so he isn't sure why it hurts so much that he can feel tears coming again.

 

“Hey, no, come here,” Gwaine says. He pulls Merlin close again and sits with him on the edge of the bed, holds him like he cares. Merlin wants to believe that he does but then, Merlin always wants to believe in the best in people. It’s probably just wishful thinking, “Do you want to tell me why you’re crying? I promise I’m a good listener. I’m a bartender, that’s basically a modern version of a priest, right?” If Merlin were stronger, he’d maybe talk. If he were a better person, he’d maybe tell Gwaine that he’s fine, thanks, you can go now. Merlin is not, however. He stays curled up against Gwaine’s side and says nothing for a long time. It’s only when Gwaine’s phone rings that either of them moves. Gwaine fishes his phone out of his pocket, checks the screen and sighs. He doesn’t answer though. Instead he squeezes Merlin’s shoulder and says, “I’m sorry I _really_ should go.” He sounds uncertain, like if Merlin asked him to stay, he would. Merlin doesn’t dare ask though. He watches Gwaine turn at the door and give an unsure smile. “Tell you what? Come down to the pub when you can. Whenever you want. Drinks on me.” He waits until Merlin nods to actually leave. Merlin locks the door behind him and goes back to bed.

 

*

 

It’s weeks before Merlin leaves his apartment.

 

*

 

At first it’s because he’s tired. After Gwaine leaves, he’s completely drained. He barely has the strength to take his clothes off and dig out a thin blanket from his duffle before he passes out. He sleeps through the rest of the day and for the whole night, manages to force himself to make tea in the little kitchenette in the morning, forgets to drink it before it goes cold. He naps on and off all day, tosses and turns all night. It’s still raining outside.

 

He reasons he’s earned it. It’s what every website and support forum says – _treat yourself well, reward yourself for your successes no matter how small_. Merlin figures he deserves a break after all he’s done. He’s broken it off with Edwin if only tacitly, he’s moved out from their shared apartment and into his own new one, he’s changed his number, has tried not to leave a trail behind himself. It’s only fair that he gets to lie around in bed for a few days.

 

It gets worse though. It gets progressively harder. By the end of next week he can barely make himself get out of bed in the mornings, even for food or water. He runs out of groceries and he orders them online, has them delivered to his door and only takes them in when the delivery person is gone. He runs out of clean clothes and he wears dirty ones or nothing at all; it’s not like he has anywhere to go or anyone to see him. The apartment gets messier and dirtier and he doesn’t even know how when he barely moves out of bed.

 

He’s not even sure what he does all day. Sometimes he spends hours playing on his phone or watching shows he doesn’t remember later on his laptop. Other times he catches himself literally staring at the ceiling with his mind completely blank, just being a waste of space.

 

And then there are the times when he has the presence of mind to actually think for a bit. Those are the worst because they only happen once in a while and it’s like everything hits him right then, every thought he’s been avoiding since the last time, every feeling he’s been trying not to feel coming to him all at once. He has a few flashes of hope, of pride, of satisfaction, but mostly it’s fear and hopelessness and regret. It’s weird because he knows, he _knows_ he made the right choice in leaving, it wasn’t a decision he made lightly and he stands by his reasons, but it’s hard to remember that when he’s cold and alone and there’s no one to even notice he’s gone. He looks back to the last two years of his life and he sees the good parts, sees himself happy and safe, sees a nice clean apartment that was never empty like this one, sees someone in bed with him, someone who brought him gifts and took him out to dates and someone who cared about him; the bad parts that made him leave he barely even remembers anymore, or at least they don’t seem so bad anymore – so what if Edwin was a little rough with him sometimes, so what if there were nights when he cried into his pillow while Edwin fucked him from behind, so what if he couldn’t go out to see his friends without Edwin getting jealous, it all seems so irrelevant now, not nearly as bad as it felt as it was happening.

 

He doesn’t cry as much as he’d expected to. It’s almost like he’s too numb for it. It’s only a night or two in three weeks that he ends up curled into a ball on his side and sobbing into his hand so the sound won’t carry. The walls are thin here and it’s not that he thinks anyone would come to check on him, but he doesn’t want them to know anyway. The girl who lives on his left has a cat and spends too much time talking to her mom on the phone and the guy on the right jerks off every evening and Merlin doesn’t want them to maybe press their ears to the wall and listen like he sometimes does.

 

It’s funny because he used to be this bright, bubbly person who loved to make friends and be surrounded by people and look at him now, it’s funny because he wants to be noticed and cared about and missed, but at the same time he wants to be invisible, wants no one to know he’s there, wants to disappear and never see or speak to another human being again; he wants to be independent and free, he wants to have someone to hold his hand. He can’t have either though, so he just stays in bed and pretends it doesn’t matter.

 

*

 

He’s lost count of how many days it’s been since the last time he was outside when there’s a knock on the door. He hasn’t ordered anything recently, is not expecting any kind of delivery, so he has no idea who it could be. He thinks maybe somebody got the wrong door, but the knock comes again. Merlin is already standing for once, halfway between the kitchenette and the bed, a mug of hot water in hand (he’s run out of both coffee and tea and he keeps forgetting to add them to the shopping cart; he doesn’t even drink the water, it’s just that something won’t let him drop the ritual of boiling water). He takes a tentative step towards the door, eyeing it suspiciously.

 

The knock comes again. And with it, a voice. “Merlin?”

 

Merlin recognizes the voice even if it takes him a few seconds to place it. He takes another step and stands in front of the door, hand on the doorknob like he’s actually considering opening it. He’s not, not consciously at least.

 

“Merlin, are you there? I haven’t seen you since you moved in and I know I work weird hours, but I think… Well, I figured I’d better check up on you.”

 

 _Why do you care_ , Merlin wants to ask. He seems to have forgotten how to speak though. Even if he hadn’t, he’s not sure he’d say anything.

 

“I hear you moving around sometimes, so I think. I think you’re in there and I think you haven’t left since the last time I saw you. And that’s okay.” It’s not, Merlin thinks, he should be looking for a job or making friends, but he doesn’t say anything. “I just want to know you’re alright.” Merlin puts his hand on the door. He imagines he can feel Gwaine’s hand on the other side. He still remembers what Gwaine’s arms felt like around him, like warmth and comfort and peace. He also remembers how Gwaine pushed him away. “Well, I guess you’re not there. Or maybe you are and you just don’t want to talk. Which is okay too! I’ll be back tomorrow. Maybe we can talk then?”

 

*

 

And he does come back. Tomorrow and the day after it and the one that comes after that one. It’s always at the same time and it’s always brief and it’s always more or less the same, Gwaine talking to him through the closed door, asking if he’s okay and promising to be back the following day. Somehow, it still takes Merlin by surprise every time. He should be used to it by the sixth time it happens, but he’s not. The knock catches him off guard again and for the first time it makes him smile. By the ninth time, he’s sitting by the door waiting for it. It brings him comfort, it’s the only thing that does, while still letting him stay mostly invisible, no more than a shadow lost in the darkness.

 

*

 

On the thirteenth day he replies.

 

It’s not much, all he says is a pretty weak and croaky, “Gwaine,” when Gwaine calls to him, but the way Gwaine reacts, talks at him for twice as long with a smile obvious in his voice, makes him feel like he’s done something huge. It’s a nice feeling, enough to get him through the day feeling a tiny little bit more like himself, it’s enough to get him to do the dishes and change the sheets. It doesn’t sound like much when he thinks about in bed that night, but it feels monumental. He decides not to question that.

 

*

 

On the seventeenth day he opens the door.

 

He’s been talking more, having actual conversations and while he still looks a mess probably and the apartment is not the cleanest, he’s showered and he’s put his clothes away and the sink is empty. If Gwaine notices the dirty floor and the dust and the unhealthily blue tint to Merlin’s skin when he walks in, he doesn’t mention them. He only says, “It’s nice to see you again.”

 

When he’s leaving it looks for a second like he wants to go in for a hug, but he changes his mind. Merlin is grateful for that. He’s been growing restless, the fact that someone is there with him making his skin feel tight and his chest fill with anxiety. It’s not a bad thing necessarily, having Gwaine there, but it _is_ new and different and a lot and Merlin has not been doing well with those things lately.

 

He goes downstairs to the laundry room and does his washing that night when everyone’s asleep though, so there’s that.

 

*

 

Merlin hasn’t been to a pub in… God, in over a year probably. He’s not sure _Avalon_ even counts now because it’s about an hour still to opening and no one’s there other than Gwaine.

 

It’s been four days since Gwaine was in his apartment last. He helped Merlin unpack and tidy up a bit. He hugged Merlin before he left and he said, “Well, I think it’s been enough of me visiting you. Isn’t it your turn now?” He made it sound like a joke, but Merlin knows he meant it. He’s not sure if Gwaine would have eventually come back. He likes to think so. For once though, he doesn’t want to wait, he wants to _do_. So here he is.

 

Gwaine doesn’t notice him at first, not until he clears his throat and says, “Hello.” He’s honestly not sure how he’s managed to get this far and not turn around and run. It’s quite overwhelming being out here, makes him feel vulnerable even though he knows the front door is locked and no one can come in; he’s still exposed out here, imagines people from the outside seeing him and wonders what they think of him. For a brief moment of insanity he imagines Edwin walking down the street, looking for him, seeing him in there and coming in to take him away again so they can be together.

 

And then Gwaine says, “Hi,” and Merlin forgets all about Edwin.

 

*

 

Gwaine gives him a job.

 

Merlin is not angling for anything when he mentions that his savings are depleting and that the few jobs he applied to he didn’t go to the interviews for. They’re just making conversation, Merlin sitting at the bar and Gwaine on the other side of it, preparing to open up and filling Merlin’s glass when it’s empty. It’s been a while since he’s had alcohol so even only a few of Gwaine’s weak vodka cranberries are enough to get him slightly tipsy and loosen his tongue. And it slips out, like a lot of other little things, mentions of old friends and bits and pieces of old relationships. In the beginning he can see Gwaine grasping at every word, fitting them together in his head like puzzle pieces. It’s not long before he stops caring. Let Gwaine have at it, he can’t be bothered to worry about it right now, he’s too busy trying to just survive.

 

At first, Merlin thinks it’s a joke. He has no experience whatsoever and he’s obviously not the best person for a job that requires interacting with people, at least not anymore. But the next day, Gwaine is at his door, knocking a few hours before _Avalon_ opens and taking him downstairs. He sends Merlin to do inventory and fetch bottles and adjust the settings of the ice machine and clean, things that are mostly easy, mindless tasks and require minimal social skills. It’s quite nice actually, gives him something to do, something to focus on, a reason to get up in the morning and get out of his apartment, a routine. It makes him feel useful and a lot less like he’s a waste of breath. The money he gets out of it at the end of the month is nice too, more than he expects and definitely more than he deserves for the work he does. When he mentions that to Gwaine though, Gwaine just winks at him and says, “My pub, my employees, my decision.”

 

*

 

At the seven month mark Merlin is doing a lot better than he expected and a lot better than the internet told him he would be.

 

He’s not-- He’s not _alright_. That’s not the word he would use. When he’s not busy doing something he still feels like he’s missing half his life, he still wakes up some mornings and tells Gwaine to fuck off because he can’t get up and he still spends hours after that agonizing over whether Gwaine will be there tomorrow, he still sees Edwin in random people on the street when he’s on his way to the store and he thinks if he did actually run into Edwin he’d still feel that inexplicable need to please him and obey him and follow him. But he wakes at decent hours most days and he does his laundry and shopping on time and he has a job and he’s made a friend (sometimes he thinks they could be more, sometimes he thinks he catches Gwaine looking at him the way he knows he looks at Gwaine, but then he remembers the way Gwaine pushed him away or he sees Gwaine flirting with girls and boys at the bar, taking them to the backroom or the bathroom, or he starts to wonder if he’s really in love with Gwaine or just riding the hero complex concept and he realizes it’s never gonna happen). He’s not alright, but he’s _doing_ alright.

 

*

 

Merlin is behind the bar one night while Gwaine sweet talks a girl he’s been flirting with all night when it happens. Arthur walks in. Merlin can tell the exact moment that Arthur sees him and recognizes him because his whole face changes, goes from relaxed to confused to maybe relieved before Arthur schools it into something neutral. Merlin knows it’s been almost three years since they last saw each other and he knows they didn’t leave it on the best of terms, their last conversation having turned into an explosive fight, but it still hurts to see how much they’ve grown apart, that Arthur is trying to hide from him.

 

For a moment Merlin thinks Arthur is going to ignore him. He doesn’t though, approaches the bar with careful steps like he expects Merlin to tell him to fuck off. If they’d met two years ago or even just a year ago, it would’ve been different. Merlin can hold a grudge and he knows it, and for a long time after their fight he stayed mad with Arthur. Now that he’s had some time to distance himself from it all, he can see that Arthur was right, Arthur was concerned for him, Arthur only wanted to help. His method wasn’t the best one, a bit clumsy and preaching at a time when Merlin didn’t want to see the flaws in Edwin and their relationship. Seeing Arthur now makes him feel guilty. He has to remind himself to be kind to himself, that abusive relationships tend to blind people to the realities of how bad they really are. The words feel only a bit hollow. He gives an uncertain wave when Arthur is standing about two steps away from him and attempts a smile. It may have been years, but Arthur still smiles back.

 

“Merlin,” he says.

 

“Arthur,” Merlin replies, making a mockery of the way Arthur speaks like he always does. For a second it’s like years haven’t passed. “How have you been?” he asks before he can think too much about it and talk himself out of it. It’s a joke, mostly. It’s been too long, too many things have happened for that question to make any sense, but it’s how they used to greet each other whenever they hadn’t seen each other for a while. Merlin knows Arthur remembers because he breathes a small laugh and shakes his head.

 

“Can’t complain. How about you?”

 

And Merlin shrugs one shoulder and smiles at the glass he’s holding because yeah, it’s _mostly_ a joke but it’s never entirely one and he hasn’t lied to Arthur in a long time so he’s not about to start now. “What can I get you?” he asks instead. He doesn’t normally serve customers on a slow night like this when Gwaine doesn’t need help. For Arthur he can make an exception.

 

“Coffee, black,” Arthur replies, like Merlin doesn’t still remember how he takes his coffee. “I have work tonight,” he adds by way of explanation.

 

“Still working with the police?”

 

Arthur smiles. “In a sense, yes. I’m a detective now.”

 

“Oh, wow, congratulations!”

 

“Thanks.”

 

It’s awkward, of course it is, there was a time when no one was closer to him than Arthur, a time when he thought nothing could come between them. Even after that time was behind them, after they became toxic to each other, after they both moved on, they were still the closest of friends. And now Merlin doesn’t even know the first thing about Arthur. He wonders how long Arthur’s had his dream job and how he celebrated, if there’s someone else in his life now, if he’s maybe married, maybe a father. So many questions that Merlin used to be able to answer but can’t anymore. He doesn’t even know where to begin so he just goes about doing his job. Turns the machine on. Makes coffee. Gets the mug. Sets it on a saucer. Puts it in front of Arthur.

 

Arthur’s hands are balled up into fists, resting on the bar. Once upon a time a lifetime ago in that coffeeshop Arthur would’ve taken the mug from him and let their fingers brush. Merlin doesn’t know how he feels about that.

 

“I promise this is not a pick up line, but… I haven’t seen you here before,” Arthur says. There’s an obvious question there. Underneath Merlin can hear a strange current of hope. They both know Edwin would never have let him go back to work; Merlin is touched that Arthur still remembers, that Arthur still cares. Somehow it doesn’t surprise him and he believes it without even a question. He’s missed having that kind of security in something other than the darkness. Arthur’s always made that part easy.

 

“I started working here a couple of months ago,” he says. “Moved in fairly recently and…” There’s no good reason why he stops. The pub is almost empty, only him and Arthur at the bar, there’s no one to overhear and Merlin knows, has always known beyond a shadow of a doubt, that when he talks Arthur listens, that whatever he says, Arthur _wants_ to hear. And still, he stops. There’s only ever been one major thing he’s hidden from Arthur, only how his relationship with Edwin worked, and it’s a thing he’s never talked about with anyone. It feels somehow wrong to start right now. “And I needed a job. Gwaine helped me out. He owns this place.”

 

For some reason Arthur finds that exceptionally amusing, laughing that loud, full-bodied laugh that Merlin's always loved. “Yeah, I know Gwaine,” he says. If it weren’t Arthur Merlin would be making assumptions about the tone of that statement right now. “Is he around? I actually came to see him.”

 

“Yeah, he’s around. Was busy the last time I saw him.”

 

“Isn’t he always?” Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow at him over his coffee mug. Merlin laughs and it’s easy, bonding with Arthur again. Always was easy with Arthur, even at the worst of times.

 

And Merlin always knows just what to say to keep it going. “You know him well.”

 

“Not as well as most,” Arthur laughs. “Not biblically.”

 

Merlin winks. “Me neither.”

 

“Figured as much,” Arthur replies. Merlin gets the distinct impression he’d be sticking his tongue out if he didn’t think it was beneath him to do such childish things.

 

They both jump when Gwaine hops over the bar to stand next to Merlin. “Of course the two of you would know each other. Because one of you making my life hell just wasn’t enough.”

 

“Hey now,” Merlin complains at the same time as Arthur drawls, “You love us,” which is a lot braver than what Merlin is at the moment.

 

“Eh, you’re alright,” Gwaine replies with a shrug. “How do you two even know each other?”

 

Merlin looks at Arthur, expects to see Arthur looking back at him. Arthur’s looking at Gwaine though, has that little twist to his mouth and the slight quirk of the eyebrow that he gets when he’s trying to figure something out. It makes Merlin’s heart skip a beat that they’ve changed, yes, but he still knows Arthur.

 

“We go way back,” Arthur says then. “Met in uni. Mutual friends and all that.” Merlin snorts a bit, but doesn’t comment. “Dated for a while before deciding it wasn’t for us,” Arthur finishes. He gives Merlin a significant look that Merlin doesn’t understand. “You know, the usual great big love story that was good in theory but was never meant to work out.”

 

“Sounds like such an epic romantic tragedy when you put it that way,” Merlin jokes. It’s not entirely untrue even if it is a bit over the top and dramatic. They did the whole hate to friendship to love back to hate thing after all. Someone should write a story about them.

 

“Well, it was. For you I mean,” Arthur says. “You did lose _me_ , that’s pretty tragic.” He waves his hands at his own body. Merlin wants to smack him over the head. Some things don’t change, he figures.

 

“Shut up and drink your coffee,” he gripes instead. He has a terrible feeling that he’s smiling quite fondly though, which tends to ruin the effect. Arthur’s presence reminds him of how he used to be. It makes him feel young and bright and bubbly. Gwaine is looking at him strangely, his expression oddly soft and gentle. Merlin can’t quite stand to look at it for very long; he tries to look busy by moving glasses and mugs around, rinsing dishes that are already clean and checking the ice machine he’s already checked twice. He can feel eyes on him, Gwaine’s he thinks because when he sneaks a glance at Arthur, Arthur is looking at Gwaine instead. Merlin feels oddly like this whole conversation, while _about_ him is actually intended more for Gwaine. Somehow he finds that he doesn’t mind that. Gwaine doesn’t know that much about him, but he’s been around for a few months now and what he does know (what little Merlin's revealed, what he let slip accidentally, what he knows Gwaine has put together himself) hasn’t made him treat Merlin any different or leave. Merlin figures a few more bits of information can’t hurt.

 

“The real question is,” Arthur interrupts his thoughts, “how do _you two_ know each other?”

 

Merlin has the all too familiar feeling of blood draining from his face, a cold washing over him that makes him freeze up where he’s rinsing a glass under the tap. He looks at Gwaine. Gwaine is not looking at him, instead running a hand through his hair and addressing Arthur as he speaks. The sudden panic has a paralyzing effect and Merlin’s coming up blank on any remotely believable lie he could sell; he watches as if in slow motion Gwaine’s mouth part and words start coming out.

 

_Meeting Arthur goes, like most things in his life, not the way he expects it to. Morgana’s been mentioning her brother for weeks now and she’s always said he and Merlin would be good for each other so when Merlin gets into an argument with a customer cutting in line and gets cursed at for sending him off to the end of it, he does not expect Morgana to walk up to him as soon as she’s through the door._

_Merlin agrees to room with him mostly because Arthur is not asking much for rent and Merlin doesn’t have a lot of choice with the semester starting in a few days and him still couch surfing at various friends’ places. And Arthur is… There’s no other way about it, Arthur is a terrible slob. He’s obviously used to living alone and being taken care of because he leaves his stuff lying around everywhere and he never cooks and he never knocks and he barely ever remembers to do the shopping. But what he does do is fix things around the house and kick people out at a decent hour after they throw parties and get Merlin into gallery openings and museums and archeological digs. What he does do is hug Merlin and watch Disney films with him when he breaks up with Morgana. What he does do is punch Kyle in the face when he keeps drunkenly pushing Merlin up against the door and trying to undress him even when Merlin is saying no. What he does do is rub Merlin’s back and tell him he’s not broken after he overhears Tracey from the Queer Soc talking about him during coffee break. So yeah, Merlin doesn’t really mind cleaning up after him. It all evens out in the end._

 

And then he hears, “Merlin here was trying to carry two suitcases and about half an IKEA store up the stairs. Worked out about as well as you’d imagine. I decided to take pity on him.” It’s like Arthur’s question plunged the world underwater where Merlin watched everything in blurred slow motion and Gwaine’s words make him break the surface, everything suddenly moving and sounding right again. He watches Arthur nod and laugh and finish his coffee and he watches Gwaine make the Cosmo his new friend ordered, his face not changing in the slightest, not giving away that he— It’s not a lie per se, Merlin _did_ go to IKEA a few weeks ago and buy probably way too many things and definitely more things than he’s ever gonna need (the tupperware was _really_ cheap, okay, and that neon alarm clock was a moment of weakness), but that was months after he’d already met Gwaine and made a friend out of him. Merlin’s never mentioned anything about staying on the down-low, certainly never talked about being quite frankly ashamed of how he acted that first day he met Gwaine. He thinks maybe Gwaine knows him better than he thought.

 

He waits for Arthur to leave for work before he nudges Gwaine’s shoulder while they’re clearing down and locking up. “Thanks,” he says.

 

Gwaine gives him the decency of not pretending he has no idea what they’re talking about. “No big deal.”

 

*

 

Honestly? Merlin should’ve seen it coming. Twenty years wouldn’t change who Arthur _is_ and for all that he's supportive and caring, gentle in his methods he is not. It’s a good thing Merlin could swim before he met Arthur or Arthur would probably have literally thrown him in the deep end and watched him struggle not to drown.

 

So when Arthur decides, on his own and without even informing Merlin let alone consulting him, that the best thing to help Merlin is bring virtually everyone he’s ever known back into his life, Merlin shouldn’t be surprised. And yet, he still doesn’t expect it when Morgana walks into the pub not two weeks after Arthur’s first visit.

 

She looks somehow both different and not at the same time. Her hair is cut much shorter than it was the last time Merlin saw her, an asymmetrical bob reaching just past her jawline where she used to wear it in long, loose curls. Her make up is softened, no longer stark lines of winged eyeliner and deep red lipstick but rather dark eye shadow and lip gloss. She’s wearing a dark high-waisted pencil skirt, and a loose white silk blouse tucked into it, dizziness-inducing high heels clicking with her every step. She looks professional. But underneath it all Merlin can see that she still probably prank calls Arthur in the middle of the night and wears fuzzy socks to bed because her feet get cold and that she probably still runs an angry blog and probably still has a whip hidden under her bed. Merlin’s missed her. He hadn’t even realized how much.

 

_When Gwen asks him to accompany her to a fetish club because she doesn’t really want to go to an unfamiliar place like that alone, he agrees. She promises him good music and drinks and a dark corner where he can pretend he’s not surrounded by people looking for sex or already having it. There are worse ways to spend a Saturday._

_When Morgana sits at his table, leather corset laced up tight and thigh-high platform boots hugging her legs perfectly, he doesn’t expect anything to come out of it. She asks why he’s sitting alone and while she’s intriguing, all intimidatingly dolled up, mysterious and scary yet somehow approachable and trustworthy-looking at the same time, he doesn’t want to waste her time so he says, “I’m not looking for sex.”_

_She smiles lopsidedly like she’s in on a secret he doesn’t know and says, “Doesn’t have to be about sex.” And then Merlin finds out that subbing is a good stress relief that he can definitely get behind doing it if it's with the right person._

 

 

She orders red wine and sits at the bar with him for hours. She talks to him like they’ve been friends all along, like they’re just continuing a conversation they started yesterday and didn’t get to finish. She doesn’t ask what he’s doing there or how long he’s been working or if he’s moved out. He knows she wants to know, she’s always been curious and she’s always been protective of him; he catches her watching him when she thinks he’s not looking, feels her eyes on him when he takes the treys with drinks and snacks to different tables, sees how she peeks under the sleeves of his shirt when they roll up. He doesn’t mind as much as he used to when he had something to hide. He’s glad she doesn’t actually vocalize anything because he still very much does not want to Talk.

 

He texts Gwaine to kick the cute blond boy out of his bed and get his butt downstairs when the evening crowd starts to arrive and he’s not even surprised when Gwaine greets Morgana with a kiss on the cheek and she slaps his ass before he steps away. They don’t have much time to talk afterwards, there’s a game on tonight and they’re near the student dorms so the crowd is a lot bigger and rowdier than usual. Merlin’s coming back from taking a new round of beers to a table of already tipsy boys in green football jerseys when she’s paying, handing Gwaine a note that more than double covers her bill and waving away the change when he hears her asking, “How do you even know Merlin?”

 

“He walked in here looking more stressed than a straight-A student during finals and I got him a bit drunk to loosen him up. Of course that only ended up with him yelling at me the day after, so I suppose it didn’t quite work the way I wanted it to,” Gwaine says with a wink at Merlin. It makes Morgana laugh and it makes Merlin’s ears burn because that one is also a partial truth, a near-exact description of Merlin’s first night working in the pub and not in the back room. He’s not sure if Gwaine’s honestly having trouble keeping track of which (mostly white) lies he’s telling whom or if he’s doing it on purpose to poke fun at everyone. He doesn’t mind either way. It’s not really anyone else’s business if Merlin doesn’t want to truth out there. He knows Gwaine can respect that.

 

*

 

It’s Gwen next time. The moment she walks in Merlin knows she came straight from work. There’s red paint all over her jeans and her floral top looks like somebody spilled something greasy over it and her hair is falling out of her bun in loose wisps and curls and no one other than a kindergarten teacher could look so happy and smiley about that.

 

In a way she’s the best person to be reintroduced into his life right now. Her positive energy is always infectious and Merlin’s never met anyone more caring than her, just her presence around him feels calming and healing. In a way she’s also the worst and the hardest one to come back because Merlin knows she won’t let him avoid talking about what happened.  In fact, it’s one of the first things she asks, if he’s still dating Edwin. That one’s not that hard; he just shakes his head and says, “Nope, moved out months ago. Haven’t seen him or heard from him since.” She nods approvingly as she plays with the straw in her virgin cocktail.

 

Merlin knows what’s coming next and he’s not disappointed when she asks, “So what happened?”

 

And that one, that one is hard because nothing really _happened_ , did it? Merlin didn’t wake up one day and suddenly decide he was going to leave, he didn’t meet someone new and inspiring who changed his life, he didn’t come close to dying or read a pamphlet that warned him about signs of an abusive relationships and just gather his things and go. It was all of it and it was none of it and it was months of thinking about it and planning and deciding and changing his mind a hundred times and it was the hardest thing he’d ever done and it doesn’t fit in a simple one-sentence answer and it doesn’t make sense and Merlin _still_ does not want to talk about it.

 

So he says the one thing he knows she won’t believe, “Nothing happened. I left. Can we not talk about it?”

 

_Falling into a well is not that scary. It’s wet and it’s dark and he gets bored pretty quickly, but it’s not scary. He lands in thick mud. It only hurts a bit. His mom is probably going to be mad that he got dirty._

_He’s about to start shouting for help when a face appears in the circle of stormy grey sky that he can see. It’s the girl who moved in last week, the one who likes to pick wildflowers in the little forest behind their houses and sing Disney songs. She sits on the edge of the well with him and brings him chocolate chip cookies that she throws into the well in a little plastic bag and calls his mom. She’s his new best friend._

She purses her lips, looks unhappy for about three seconds and then, surprisingly, lets it go. Merlin has no doubt the conversation is not over though. She smiles brightly at him and puts a hand on his forearm, a warm point of contact that feels like a balm, relaxing all of Merlin’s muscles at once. “So, you work here now. We used to come here a lot when it first opened. Suppose we’re all a bit too busy for it right now. You work for Gwaine then? He’s fun. How did you two meet?”

 

It’s the first time Gwaine’s not there to field the question and for a moment, Merlin panics. He’s good at covering things up long term, but coming up with lies on the spot has never been his forte and that hasn’t changed. He tries to see it the way Gwaine does though, as a game of believe it or not, as a game of knowing what others think of you and playing into it by picking a half-truth they’ll believe. He tries to look like he’s fondly reminiscing when he replies, “He was handing out fliers for cocktail night and tried to flirt with me. I did show up because, hey, cheap alcohol, but nothing happened because, well.” Gwen smiles at him fondly in that why-are-these-my-friends way she has and Merlin smiles back. She doesn’t need to know that Merlin was the one handing out fliers, watching Gwaine flirt with potential customers. She doesn’t need to know that the girl Gwaine liked turned out to be a lesbian. She definitely doesn’t need to know that Merlin, despite knowing that’s not how it should be, despite having known Gwaine for months and never having seen him be anything but kind, absolutely still expected Gwaine to keep pursuing her. She doesn’t need to know how much it meant to him when Gwaine just let it go with a quick grin and a free drink for both the girl and her girlfriend.

 

*

Merlin meets a lot of people in his life. He has the good luck of most of them being good people. He has the bad luck of the bad ones being truly terrible. He makes acquaintances easily, friends a little harder; most of them are just moving parts, even those he likes, even those he cares about deeply, even those who change his life, but some, the most important ones, they stay. He likes people, likes to be around them, likes to talk to them and listen to them, likes to be surrounded by them and live thousands of lives through them and their stories. He loves to think about how they all fit together and to see what new things he can learn with every new interaction. He likes to touch people and be touched by them, likes to feel someone’s warmth and the softness of their skin. Sometimes he doesn’t even need to be talking, he just wants to have someone there and hear them breathing, just to feel like he’s not alone. The fact that he’s allowed someone to make him forget that is something he’ll probably regret his whole life, thinking about all the connections he’s probably missed, all the stories he’ll never hear and all the adventures he’ll never be a part of.

 

There’s a huge queer non-profit in the city. Merlin’s known this for a long time, was even an active member for a few years after uni, joined both looking to prolong the positives of being with the university’s queer society and to prove to himself that the negatives of it won’t be there in every queer organization. They organize Pride and hold protests and have meetings and activities all over the city and Merlin hasn’t been a part of that for too long. He doesn’t even realize how much he’s missed being in touch with his own community until Gwaine’s telling him they’re opening early next Wednesday because there’s a queer speed dating event.

 

Merlin’s not even really a part of it and he still feels better just for witnessing it. He knows some of these people, has fond memories of most, friends and exes alike. Most recognize him and wave, even come to say hello. It’s sweet if mostly just pointless small talk. It makes Merlin feel like a part of something again though, makes him want to join again, want to be there for the next event. It makes him want to meet new people again and have someone to go out for coffee with.

 

For the first time since he left Edwin nearly a whole year ago, he wants to have someone special in his life again.

 

*

 

_stage two: i fell in love with you like one learns a new favorite song, hearing it for the first time and not knowing the words but liking it all the same, playing it again and again because you can’t get enough of it, humming it on your way to work and singing it in the shower until everyone around you knows it, until everyone around you is sick of it and you still feel like you could listen to it on repeat forever. i fell in love with every line and every note more as i learned them and i fell in love with the feel of guitar strings against my fingertips when i played like i fell in love with your smile and how your hands move and the way they feel when they touch me_

*

 

Gwaine kisses him when the sun is shining and the cathedral bells are ringing.

 

*

 

It’s been a good long time since Merlin’s properly come out to someone. He doesn’t hide his sexuality, never really did, in fact he’s made a point of disclosing it on early dates so nobody would get any ideas, but ever since he moved to Camelot almost ten years ago now he’s been less and less proud of it. Back when he was still living in Ealdor it didn’t really matter; he figured out he was a bit different from most people eventually, but it was never a problem he had to deal with. They were all young back then and the two relationships he had at the time wouldn’t have moved much further even if he had been interested in sex, so it made no difference that he wasn’t.

 

As he got older though and moved to a big city where he met new potential partners, he started to realize that most of the time people took it as a given that he’d want to have sex, it wasn’t really a question to be asked, people just presumed. And that’s how it started, that’s how he began to wonder if maybe there _was_ something _wrong_ with him, if maybe he _should_ want sex, if maybe he _was_ weird and ungrateful and everything else he’s been called over the years.

 

He’s in a weird place when it comes to his own sexuality when he more or less accidentally comes out to Gwaine. He’s only been working at the pub for a few weeks and he’s spent most of his time away from the customers. He’s helping Gwaine bring a crate of vodka out from the backroom and line the bottles up on a shelf behind the bar when a girl starts talking to him. She asks if they’ve met before and offers to show him around the city if he’s new to it when he says they haven’t, which is nice he supposes; she doesn’t mean it though, they both know it, and what she’s looking for Merlin knows he can’t give her at the moment so he politely declines. He’s not an idiot or blind to social cues, he knows she’s flirting with him and he knows the interaction is awkward and that he stammers a bit through all of it. She is cute, short blue hair and a snake bite piercing that Merlin wouldn’t mind tugging on when kissing her and if he’d run into her when he first moved here, he’d have taken her out. Now, though, he pretends he doesn’t understand what she’s suggesting until she shrugs and takes her drink to a table.

 

“She’s cute,” Gwaine comments. “You know she was trying to get in your pants, right?”

 

Merlin knows by now that this is Gwaine when he’s fishing for information. He shrugs, “Yep.” And then, because apparently sometimes his mouth works faster than his brain, he adds, “Don’t really want her in my pants though.”

 

Gwaine doesn’t look particularly surprised. He leans against the counter, one hip cocked and head tilted to the side. “Boys more your thing then?” he asks. He’s not even fishing anymore, not even trying to be sneaky about it. Merlin is pretty sure he’s actually _flirting_. It makes his heart beat faster at the same time as it makes his stomach turn.

 

He’s not sure what he’s thinking about when he replies, “Don’t really have a thing. Don’t want anyone getting into my pants.”

 

That does raise Gwaine’s eyebrows. He recovers quickly though, smiles as he jumps up onto the counter and swings his legs. “That’s cool.” Merlin wants to ask if it’s cool why they’re not flirting anymore, why Gwaine felt the need to sit in a much less inviting position, why he’s apparently not interested anymore now that he knows Merlin doesn’t want to have sex with him. “I figured because that day you moved in, you tried to…” He lets the sentence trail off; Merlin figures the embarrassment at being reminded how he tried to sleep with Gwaine to thank him for helping must show on his face.

 

It was just such a—It’s such a stupid thought, is the thing. And Merlin knows that. He looks back at that moment now and he honestly isn’t sure what he was thinking. If he was thinking at all. It’s a good thing Gwaine had the presence of mind to push him away (and somehow, for some reason, the rejection still hurts; Merlin has no idea how he manages to feel such diametrically opposite things at the same time) because he knows for sure he would’ve gone through with it otherwise; it’s going to take him a long time to break out of thinking he needs to pay back kindness by making himself available for sex, Edwin’s taught him too well.

 

“It’s complicated,” he mumbles to Gwaine before heading back to the backroom. He has some restocking to do, needs to check how much cranberry juice they still have and if they need to order some more rosé. He has things he needs to do. And if he doesn’t he’ll make them up because he needs to not think right now.

 

He doesn’t realize Gwaine’s jumped off until there’s a hand on his elbow, tight enough to stop him, loose enough that he knows he could pull away. He doesn’t know if Gwaine’s doing that on purpose.

 

“Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up. I shouldn’t have asked anything, it’s none of my business,” Gwaine says. He makes that last part sound like a question and Merlin wonders, _hopes_ , that he’s not just imaging this _thing_ between them, that he’s not the only one falling. For someone who knows from firsthand personal experience that romantic love is different from friendship he sure has a hard time seeing the difference sometimes. He knows Gwaine is interested in him, but so far he’s only been seeing friendship and sexual interest. He’s beginning to hope that he’s maybe misread.

 

“It’s alright,” he tells Gwaine, even though it’s really not.

 

“No, bringing up the day you moved in is definitely not alright.”

 

“But the rest of it…”

 

“The rest of it’s okay?”

 

Merlin nods. They’re still standing awkwardly halfway through the door to the backroom, Gwaine’s hand still on his arm. They’re closer than Merlin thinks the space warrants, close enough that he can feel Gwaine’s hair tickle over his cheek. This time when he wants to lean in and kiss Gwaine he knows it’s not for the wrong reasons.

 

They part when somebody rings the bell Gwaine jokingly put on the bar a few days ago. Merlin watches on as Gwaine goes about making the sweetest glass of iced coffee he’s probably ever made and squeeze whipped cream out on top with a flourish. See, Merlin is not dumb. He’s known right from the start that Gwaine would be someone he could fall in love with. Gwaine is fun and he is kind and he is observant and he is respectful and he makes Merlin feel like going out and getting lost turning down random streets and like trying the one thing on the menu he can’t pronounce the name of. He makes Merlin feel light and happy and _safe_. He makes Merlin feel more like his old self than he ever thought he’d feel when he first moved here and spent days on end lying in bed unable to even move. Merlin knows he’s been falling in love for weeks.

 

The problem is that—Well, actually there are a few problems. One of them is that Merlin is scared that he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is a mixture of gratefulness and infatuation or actual real attraction. Another is that Merlin is still trying to figure out how Gwaine feels about him. The biggest problem however is that Merlin is scared. He’s scared that Gwaine doesn’t feel the same about him and he’s scared that Gwaine does feel the same about him. He’s scared that they would never work together. He’s scared because he knows Gwaine likes sex, because he’s seen Gwaine kiss people at the bar before asking them to wait for his shift to end, because he’s heard them after work, because he’s seen them leave (and never, ever stay for more than breakfast). He’s scared that he’ll end up in the same situation he fought so hard to get away from. He has no reason to believe Gwaine would ever force him into something, but the fear is still there. After all he never thought Edwin would do half the things he did either.

 

Gwaine’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Are you ace then?” he asks. The casual way he asks, like this is something they can just talk about without it being this huge thing, startles Merlin into answering with the first thing that comes to his mind.

 

“I’ve had sex.” That’s—Well, it’s _true_ , but it’s not something he needed to share. He can feel blood rushing to his cheeks.

 

Gwaine barks a loud surprised laugh before he covers his mouth to stifle it. “That’s—That’s great, good to know,” he says, obviously still trying not to laugh. “Does it make a difference?”

 

And that right there is the question, isn’t it? Merlin wants to say that no, it doesn’t. He’s had sex, in fact he’s had quite a bit of it, especially lately. He’s had it with a few different girls and he’s had it with a few different boys. He’s had bad sex and he’s had good sex. He’s _enjoyed_ sex. He’s even initiated it once or twice. But at the end of the day, he still doesn’t _need_ it, he still doesn’t _want_ it most of the time, it still takes the right combination of a special mood and the right person and a specific situation for him to actually be properly into it. He appreciates physical beauty and he isn’t repulsed by sex and he gets hard and he sometimes even jerks off. And despite all that he’d still happily go the rest of his life never touching himself or someone else. He wants to say it doesn’t matter that he’s had sex, that under the right circumstances he’d have it again, because he still _feels_ asexual, it’s still the label he identifies with most.

 

But he’s not so sure anymore. When he and Freya talked about their respective boundaries on their first real date, she was shocked to find out he’d slept with people before. When he joined that queer support forum that Will mentioned after they started dating one of the first threads about asexuality he found was full of comments about how _real_ asexuals never had sex and how anyone who had it wasn’t welcome in the asexual community. The first person he met on the dating website where he found Freya told him that he shouldn’t use asexual in his profile if he’s had sex, maybe he should consider demi or grey instead. And that was only what he heard from people within his own community. The wider queer community has called him broken and picky and confused and a million other things he tried to forget. So he can’t just say it doesn’t matter.

 

“I don’t know, doesn’t it?” he asks back.

 

Gwaine shrugs one shoulder. “Not really my place to decide, is it? But I’d say that it doesn’t. there’s a difference between what you do and who you are.”

 

It all sounds so simple when Gwaine puts it that way. Gwaine has a way of doing that, making everything sound so easy Merlin can almost believe that it is. For now, he goes with it. “Then yeah, I’m ace.”

 

“Would a pun be inappropriate right now?”

 

Merlin sighs, pretending to be annoyed. In fact, he’s having more fun than he’s probably ever had having this conversation. It’s always been so serious and analytical and questioning before. “Go ahead if you must.”

 

“Damn right you’re aces.”

 

“That’s terrible,” Merlin says flatly. He’s fighting down a smile so it’s probably not very convincing.

 

Gwaine shrugs, entirely unconcerned. He can probably tell Merlin doesn’t actually mean it. He licks his lips, gives Merlin a lingering look like he’s judging what he wants to say next. Merlin feels a pang of anxiety in his chest at all the things Gwaine could bring up. In the end what he asks is, “But you want a relationship? Like, romantically.”

 

Merlin can practically feel the weight being lifted from his chest. “I mean, not right now, I think. But yeah.” He pauses for a second, unsure if he wants to continue. He figures, why the hell not, if they’re already talking about this. “I’m biromantic.”

 

Gwaine nods seriously like he’s already familiar with the term. “I’m not really one for labels, but I suppose I’d say pan? Not really into the whole relationships thing though.”

 

Merlin’s heart stutters. “Like, aromantic?” he asks. He hates how his voice shakes, but he can’t help it. It’s different thinking he doesn’t have a chance with Gwaine because things are a bit too complicated and knowing he doesn’t have a chance with Gwaine because Gwaine will never feel that way.

 

Gwaine makes a funny face, nose scrunching up and eyebrows drawing together. “Nah, not really. Would probably say greyaromantic if I had to pick?”

 

Merlin hopes the intense relief that courses through him doesn’t show on his face. He rushes to add, “You don’t! Have to pick, I mean. I just—“

 

“Yeah, that’s okay, I got it.”

 

And that’s it. It’s the most casual conversation Merlin’s ever had on the topic probably. He thinks Gwaine could make any conversation easy, could probably get the deepest, darkest secrets out of Merlin in the blink of an eye and Merlin wouldn’t even think it was that bad. It’s kind of scary to think about that, to imagine someone being able to get to him so easily, but it’s exciting at the same time. It’s nice to have someone he feels like he can talk to about pretty much anything. Merlin likes that. He likes an alarming amount of things about Gwaine alarmingly a lot and he can’t help it, not one bit.

 

*

 

Merlin is a bit of a flirt. He’s aware of this. He likes flirting, likes the fun of it, the feel of the chase, prefers the build up to the actual goal. It takes him a few nights of working the bar to really get going, too nervous to be around so many people again, irrationally scared that one evening he’ll see Edwin walking through the door. He slips back into it without noticing, a smile here and there, a wink, a brush of fingers and before he knows it he’s shamelessly open about it.

 

Even so, he has nothing on Gwaine. Gwaine flirts with everyone, and Merlin means absolutely everyone. Except him. Gwaine flirts with girls and boys, men and women, people who fit into neither or both of those categories, people younger than him and people older than him, people who sit at the bar to talk to him and people who sit at a table that he has to approach himself. Merlin, ever the masochist, likes to watch him. He’s a master of the craft, could make anyone fall for him with a few simple words and a charm Merlin has yet to see someone resist. The more he watches, the more he wants to keep watching which is becoming a problem because Merlin is—

 

Merlin is a little bit in love. And Gwaine is not paying him the attention he pays the people he flirts with. And yes, his charm makes everyone he turns it on for fall for him, but it also makes Merlin fall just that little bit more every time. It hurts, is the thing. He gets it, he does, Gwaine is not in the market for a relationship, he’s looking to get off quickly and easily and with no strings attached and Merlin is the exact opposite, he has everything Gwaine doesn’t want to offer and he can’t offer the one thing Gwaine is looking for and Merlin _gets it_. They were practically made so they’d never fit.

 

And yet, Merlin wants nothing more than for Gwaine to show that he wants him.

 

*

 

_Will is always useless when they’re supposed to be doing homework together, but today he’s being particularly annoying, lying on the bed and throwing a baseball against the wall above Merlin’s head. Merlin’s been staring at the same problem for the last 27 throws and he’s only getting less focused between the arrhythmic thumping and constantly ducking in fear of getting hit. He’s two seconds away from admitting defeat and telling Will to fuck off when the thumping suddenly stops. Just when he’s about to breathe a sigh of relief and jot down the solution that’s literally just become clear to him, Will clears his throat._

_“I, um, I wanted to tell you something actually,” he says._

_Merlin hums in response and keeps writing furiously. There’s no telling when Will is gonna start distracting him again and Merlin loves him, he really does, but sometimes he wants to strangle him and since right now is one of those times he’s not about to give him too much attention lest he actually do something ill-advised._

_“I, er… This is gonna sound really awkward, okay, I know, but like. Remember when I asked you if you would find it weird if one of your guy friends was gay? And you said no?”_

_Merlin pauses in the middle of writing a number that he’s not sure he can remember how to finish anymore. He can feel his breathing picking up. There is no way this conversation is going anywhere good. He carefully stays turned away from Will and facing the wall. “Well, you’re my only guy friend really,” he says, trying to make light of the situation. The laugh he manages to get out sounds fake even to his own ears. “So, unless you have something to tell me…” He lets the sentence trail off awkwardly into silence that feels heavy and oppressive. It’s a piss poor attempt at deflection really, Merlin knows this is all about him, has known since the moment Will nudged his knee that night in front of the TV, but he’s not_ ready _yet, doesn’t want to know if Will will judge him or abandon him once he finds out that Merlin likes boys too, that he maybe likes Will—_

_“As it were, I— Yeah, I do have something to tell you,” Will says and Merlin just—_ what _?_ _He swivels around in his chair, not even remotely in the neighborhood of prepared for this entire conversation. “I… I think I might be gay.”_

_There are things Merlin should say to that. There are things Merlin’s been dreaming of hearing from Will when he fantasized about telling him in the middle of the night with all the lights out. There are things that Merlin knows are the perfect response to just this situation because he’s wanted to hear them for God only knows how long now. Somewhere in the back of his mind is a numbered list of best to worst reactions to somebody coming out and yet somehow, he’s drawing a complete blank. He gapes at Will feeling his heart thump in his chest so hard he thinks it’s a legitimate concern that he might have a heart attack. Will is not looking at him, unnaturally focused on picking at one of the seams in the ball; Merlin sees right through it - Will’s eyes are a little too shiny, his fingers clumsy where they grip the ball, his legs restless where they stretch out over Merlin’s bed and he’s biting his lip so harshly there’s a droplet of blood staining it. Merlin should really,_ really _say something because he can tell Will is getting seriously worried; the problem is, his words are stuck somewhere in his throat and he’s still reeling from the shock which seemingly incapacitated his mouth entirely. Will would laugh at him right about now because nobody ever leaves Merlin speechless like this, except he’s not laughing and that more than anything brings home for Merlin exactly how important this is to Will. And he still can’t get a fucking word out._

_He knows the exact moment when Will decides to go for broke; he sees the deep breath Will takes, the way he squeezes the ball tightly and throws it in the air a few times to buy time. And then he drops the bomb. “And I think I might like_ you _.”_

_It’s every single cliche Merlin’s ever known and always thought he wouldn’t get to be a part of; it’s his heart stuttering and then speeding up, it’s his breath hitching and the back of his neck heating up, it’s his fingers tingling with the need to touch Will, it’s_ everything _._

_“I know you don’t feel the same way,” Will adds quickly and_ wait, what _, “and, like, I get it if this is too awkward for you and you don’t want to be friends anymore and all but, like… I thought you should know, I mean—“_

_“What are you talking about?” Merlin finally manages. Great, of course_ that _of all things would be what finally leaves his mouth. At least it gets Will to look at him. Merlin feels a punch of guilt to his stomach at how wet his eyes are. He swallows around the lump of nerves in his throat and forces his voice to come out steady when he goes on. “I’ve been in love with you for_ months _!” He immediately feels his cheeks burst into flames, probably blushes a whole new color pink the human skin has never been before at the phrasing of that, but it’s all worth it for the way Will’s entire face lights up. “And I don’t think I’ve been exactly subtle about it if I’m honest, from the looks I’ve been getting from some of our friends.” He feels a little bad the moment he says it because yeah, Will is pretty great, but he’s always been more interested in blending in than Merlin and a reminder that some (most if Merlin’s being perfectly honest) of their friends might take issue with every word spoken in this conversation is probably a terrible idea. Will, however, doesn’t seem to care about that at the moment, though he does sit bolt upright before Merlin’s even finished speaking._

_“You never said anything!” he accuses. He’s dropped his baseball in favor of point a finger in Merlin’s direction._

_“Neither did you!”_

_“Yeah, but that’s just because I never thought you’d be interested!” Merlin explains. He adds, much more queasily, “And I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.” It’s been a difficult few months for him and he thinks he should probably feel some resentment at the fact that they’ve been so stupid about the whole thing, but the truth is that he doesn’t, can’t, when his entire being is consumed with this overwhelming relief and giddiness. He feels like he has helium in his bloodstream._

_“Oh,” Will just says. His face does this funny thing where it looks like it knows it should be showing remorse but it is stuck on a really silly grin instead. “You just never dropped any hints and I thought you only ever thought about Gwen_ that _way.”_

_The thing is, Merlin’s never really thought of Gwen_ that _way either, but he’s just about done with excitement over big confessions so he keeps that to himself. He doesn’t say that he’s never really felt like he_ needed _to kiss Will, has only felt vaguely intrigued when thinking about it and even then mostly because he missed the feeling of it, not because he thought it was something that was lacking in their relationship; he doesn’t say any of that because he knows it’s not gonna come out right and because he’s not even sure himself what it means. What he says instead is, “Gwen’s been away a while now. I needed to find a replacement.” He ducks just in time to avoid the ball Will throws straight at his head._

_“So,” Will says, sounding infinitely more confident now, “gonna join me on the bed or what?”_

_“It’s_ my  _bed,” Merlin grumbles even as he’s getting out of the chair and climbing into Will’s lap instead. Will looks pleased, if a bit surprised, by this progress; for a second, Merlin wonders if this is what it’s gonna be like for him forever, if anyone is ever going to get that he likes them without him explicitly saying it, if everyone is always going to assume he doesn’t_ want _to sit in their lap or kiss them just because he doesn’t feel like he_ needs  _to. He hopes that’s not what his future is like. He hopes that at some point he does feel like he_ needs _these things, the way everyone else around him feels._

_And then he doesn’t think about anything because Will is kissing him and it’s even better than he remembers it being with Gwen._

 

*

 

It happens gradually, starts out slow. So slow Merlin misses it at first. The slightest changes in how Gwaine talks to him, how they move around each other, how close they stand when they talk, how his eyes are no longer the only ones that linger. It’s in all the casual touches, a hand on his back or his waist or his hip, in every accidental-on-purpose brush of shoulders and legs, in how Gwaine tucks his head against Merlin’s shoulder when they hug, in how tightly he holds on. They’ve been friends for a long time, they’ve been comfortable with each other for most of that time, but not like this. It’s subtle and it’s in the details and for a while, Merlin doesn’t notice.

 

He’s too focused on how overtly Gwaine flirts with others to notice at first how differently Gwaine treats him to everyone else. It’s not really flirting, not as obvious, more subdued, somehow softer and kinder. It’s not about compliments and bright smiles and quick touches and suggestive moves, it’s about stolen glances and lingering looks and soft smiles and quiet late-night talks and almost-dates in the flickering lights of the TV and treasure hunts around the city and museum visits that last for hours. It’s about more than attraction and about more than wanting him for one night and about more than friendship. And for a while it goes right over Merlin’s head.

 

He gets it eventually. The perks of having been in an abusive relationship (and Merlin’s finally gotten himself to admit that that’s what it really was and that there’s no shame in using the right words), if there are any, is that he now has a much better grasp on body language and facial expressions, can read most anyone pretty easily because he’s had to learn how so he’d know what to expect from Edwin. At first he doesn’t believe it. He thinks it’s all in his head. He’s liked Gwaine for a while now it stands to reason he’d convince himself Gwaine likes him too. It doesn’t go away though, the looks and the touches and the smiles and the growing amount of time they’re spending together outside of work and without their other friends. And Merlin dares to hope.

 

It’s a scary thing, hoping. He hasn’t been in a relationship since Edwin, hasn’t even come close, hasn’t wanted to. He knows it won’t be easy. He likes to think he’s over it, that he’s fine now, but he knows he’s not. Sometimes he still has nightmares and sometimes just thinking about being with Gwaine has him short of breath and sometimes he doesn’t want to get up in the mornings. He knows some of the same problems he’s come across before while dating will come up again and he still doesn’t know how to solve them because if he’d found the magic formula, then he probably wouldn’t have ended up where he did. He’s created this image in his head of every relationship he’ll ever have ending up like the last one did and he has absolutely zero reason to believe Gwaine would ever hurt him like that, but he still sometimes can’t help but expect it. He knows he comes with a lot of baggage, knows that Gwaine’s not entirely clean on that front either, and he doesn’t know how they can make it work. He wants to give it a try though.

 

*

 

The note under his door is new. Gwaine’s given him days off before, but he usually talks to him about that or knocks on his door or at least texts. And the note is weird too, only says _day off, come to the flower bridge_. Merlin has no idea what that means. Like yeah, he knows what each of those words mean individually and they do make some sense put together as they are, but he has no idea what Gwaine is trying to tell him with them or why he would go to the flower bridge (it’s actually Eric’s Bridge, something they both know very well, and Gwaine should really let it go that the one time Merlin couldn’t remember what the bridge was called he said _flower bridge_ ). He puts on a light tee and grabs a plaid shirt just in case because it’s warm outside, but the weather is always unpredictable here and Merlin gets cold easily.

 

When he arrives at the bridge, Gwaine is not there. In fact, no one is there. It’s Thursday, most people at work or in class and Merlin spends about ten minutes just standing there and looking around, waiting for Gwaine to show up. It only occurs to him then that Gwaine didn’t leave a time on the note. Either he’s playing a prank or he’s actually the worst at organization. Both are a real possibility. Neither is excluded by the fact that Gwaine is not replying to texts.

 

It’s only pure luck that saves him the stress. One of Gwaine’s scarves is tied to the railing around the center of the bridge. Merlin goes to pick it up and finds a Ziploc baggie with an apple and a business card of a bakery attached to it. There’s another note held against the railing by the scarf. It says _duck pond_. Merlin snaps a photo of his goodies and sends it to Gwaine with a caption of too many question marks. He gets no response.

 

The bakery is on the way to the duck pond so he sneaks inside and gets a large apple pie. He doesn’t know exactly why he does it, maybe because it sounds like something Gwaine would do and maybe because he knows Gwaine likes apple pie and maybe because he’s kind of hoping this is a treasure hunt. Either way, he takes the pie and himself to the duck pond. Where he finds a blanket left on a bench and underneath it another note. This one says _castle_.

 

Merlin carries the blanket and the apple pie up the rather steep hillside to the castle that sits at the top. He’s smiling a little the whole way there; whatever it is that Gwaine has planned for him at the end of this little trip is gonna be fun, he can already tell. It’s not the first time Gwaine’s done one of these, usually he gets at least Arthur or Gwen to play along as well, texts them little riddles or pictures they need to decipher on Snapchat. He once had Merlin stumped on a museum hunt, sent him a photo of a fraction of a labyrinth of an art piece and Merlin spent a whole hour looking for it until he realized it was actually in front of the museum.

 

The castle, although not the prettiest and most impressive, is quite big. It takes Merlin at least fifteen minutes to walk around the whole thing and at first glance he doesn’t manage to find anything. When the second walk around doesn’t yield any results either, he texts Gwaine for a clue. Gwaine still doesn’t reply. There are three different museums around, a fountain and a park, a children’s playground and a statue and all of those could contain a clue. He decides it’s probably not the museums as that would definitely be too much work and it’s not like Gwaine could just walk in and drop something off there. The playground would also be a strange choice, full of children and families as it is. In the end Merlin decides to check the statue and the fountain. Neither looks any different than it normally does though.

 

The sun is sitting high in the sky by now, beating down on the back of his neck and his exposed arms. He’s not sure how long he’s been walking around when he realizes that he hasn’t checked his own favorite place around here, the old bell. As soon as he approaches it he can see one of Gwaine’s hoodies folded neatly and sitting on the little stone wall that surrounds the area. The note is in one of the pockets, a little crumpled but easily readable – _cathedral :)_.

 

Somehow even without any additional information Merlin knows that’s the final stop. It’s his favorite place in the city and it’s Gwaine’s too; he used to spend hours there when he was still in uni, doing homework and relaxing and just exploring. For someone who is not religious he sure likes that place. Something about the outward monumentality of it contrasted with the inviting interior appeals to him and the years of history and the power of faith that’s seeped into the concrete and stone make him feel small and irrelevant and somehow calmer for it.

 

He holds the hoodie along with the blanket and his own shirt against his chest and carries the rest of what he’s gathered along the way in the paper bag he got at the bakery. He practically skips towards the cathedral; finishing one of Gwaine’s silly adventures always makes him feel accomplished, makes him all smiley and bubbly.

 

One day, he thinks, they should do a treasure hunt only at the cathedral. It’s huge and it’s ornate and it would take him forever to find every detail he’d need and he _knows_ this place. He’ll happily go up against Gwen and Arthur together. He thinks he’ll suggest that to Gwaine. For now though, he assumes (correctly) that the main entrance is where he’ll find Gwaine. Gwaine is sitting cross-legged on one of the backless benches, a large backpack resting in front of him and a book in hand. He doesn’t notice Merlin so Merlin has the distinct pleasure of scaring him into a mildly embarrassing shriek.

 

“I have brought the treasure,” he says, dropping everything in his hands on the bench next to Gwaine. “And my shirt. Because I thought it would get colder not warmer.”

 

“You and me both,” Gwaine replies. “Good thing it’s sunny though.”

 

“Why?”

 

“We’re having a picnic.”

 

Merlin grins. “I sure hope you brought some food then because I’m hungry and I _will_ eat that whole pie if it’s all we’re having.”

 

“Got that, didn’t you?” Gwaine replies with a smile. He gets up and puts his book away, stands in front of Merlin, so close their hands are almost brushing. “Of course I brought food, what kind of a savage do you take me for?”

 

Merlin can’t help how his heart starts beating faster at the proximity. They’ve been pretty tactile lately, Gwaine’s hands casually on his back or waist or hip, legs pressed together when they’re sitting on the floor in one of their apartments and eating Chinese, hugs and cuddles and snuggles on the bed when they watch terrible horrors at night. This though, this is outside in broad daylight, this is planned and organized and Merlin is about 70% sure it’s a date, a percentage that changes the very next second when Gwaine leans in so their foreheads touch.

 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

 

Merlin’s heart skips a beat. He can feel Gwaine’s breath ghost over his lips and he parts them without thinking about it. He forgets to answer the question, just lets his eyes slip closed and raises one of his hands to the back of Gwaine’s neck. And then Gwaine’s kissing him.

 

Admittedly it’s been a long time since Merlin’s kissed someone, but he doesn’t think it was ever like this. It’s a sudden and strong feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, a tug like a gravitational pull only it leads him towards Gwaine; it makes his hands shake and his knees buckle and his lips tingle where they’re moving against Gwaine’s. He’s not sure if he’s held up by anything other than Gwaine’s hands on his waist. He wonders briefly if this is how most people feel when they finally do something about the sexual tension they’d been building for a while, if this is his equivalent of it. He decides fairly quickly that he doesn’t actually care as long as he gets to keep kissing Gwaine. Which he does. A lot and often for the rest of the day, in the park on the blanket while they eat and later at the university museum he so loves to go to and then in the rain that catches them unprepared on their way back and then at the door when they say goodbye and Gwaine promises to see him tomorrow morning for breakfast before work.

 

*

 

_“I can’t believe I got in,” Gwen says dreamily for what has to be at least the fifteenth time tonight. Merlin just smiles at the muffins he’s sprinkling with cinnamon. He doesn’t mind listening to Gwen talk about her acceptance letters or the big cities she’s dreaming of living in or the ways she plans to change the world for the better one child at a time, doesn’t even mind hearing the same stories over and over again; he likes being around Gwen, likes to listen to her voice and the way he can hear her smile in it. She’s someone he thinks he could spend every waking hour with and not get tired of. So when she starts telling him about Seattle again, he just takes one of the muffins and stuffs half of it in his mouth. He’s never imagined Gwen in Seattle himself, thought it too gloomy and rainy for her, but she seems excited and happy to go there so Merlin is happy for her. He jumps up on the counter and listens to Gwen describe all the courses she plans to take and places she plans to visit. He thinks he should probably be thinking about how she’s leaving in a few months, how after that his only real friend left will be Will (and he still hasn’t decided if he even likes Will that much), how once she leaves it will be much harder to keep in touch, how they’ll probably grow distant and yes, all those things do cross his mind, but… Gwen is there right now, she’s happy and she’s smiling and she has butterscotch frosting smudged on her nose and her excitement is kind of infectious so Merlin finds himself smiling too._

_At some point Gwen moves from leaning against the table in front of him to sitting on the counter next to him, close enough that he can smell the vanilla of her perfume and close enough that her bare thigh presses against his leg and close enough that when they both turn sideways to look at each other his eyes go a little cross-eyed. It’s comfortable somehow, sitting there in the kitchen that’s still warm from the oven being on for so long, with the pinkish rays of the setting sun filtering in through the window and painting squares on the crumb-littered tiles. Merlin kicks his legs at random, catching the warmth of the sun on his feet. He sits there, listening to Gwen talk until he’s just barely managing to graze the rays with the tips of his toes and the kitchen no longer smells of freshly baked pastry._

_“Oh my God,” Gwen says then, catching him checking the clock hanging above the door. “I am so sorry, I’ve been sitting here talking your ear off when I’m sure you have other things to be doing!”_

_He does too, has homework for tomorrow and laundry to fold and a million other little chores, but he doesn’t want Gwen to leave. He says, “No, that’s okay, I don’t really.”_

_“Oh, okay then,” Gwen agrees. For a moment it looks like she wants to say something else, but in the end she just looks away and bites her lip. The silence stretches until Merlin is pretty sure it_ should _be uncomfortable and awkward, but it’s not, at least not for him. He thinks he hasn’t really stopped smiling since Gwen walked through the door and he doesn’t think he’s gonna stop soon._

_And then Gwen turns around quite out of the blue with this determined expression on her face, puts a hand on his thigh and leans in until their lips are pressed together._

_Merlin’s never been kissed before. Merlin’s never even really wanted to kiss someone before, not like this. He freezes, unsure of what he should do now that it’s happening. He remembers overhearing people at school talking about kissing, talking about how they imagined kissing their crushes or their favorite celebrities; Merlin never really listened because, well. It never really seemed important to him. He wishes he had at least asked someone how it’s done because now it’s happening to him and the only things he knows are what he saw on TV. He might be panicking a little._

_He apparently spends too much time thinking about what he should be doing and too little time doing it because Gwen pulls back before he can even fully experience everything that’s happening, much less respond to it._

_“Oh,” Gwen says quietly. “Sorry, I just… Yeah, sorry.” Now it’s definitely awkward, with Gwen looking suddenly a little smaller, a little younger, a little less like the admirable young woman Merlin sees her as and that’s not what Merlin wanted._

_“No, it’s okay!” he rushes to say, clumsily jumping off the counter and standing in front of Gwen instead. “It’s fine, I just—”_

_“No, no, I probably should have said something first,” Gwen interrupts. She waves a hand between them dismissively and gives him a slightly forced smile. Merlin is not sure what he can do to make sure she knows it really is fine, so he kisses her. Except once their lips are touching again he’s not sure where to go next so he pulls back. He knows his cheeks are heating up, can imagine the light red color high up on them._

_“Sorry, I just…” He feels the flush spread down his neck and over his shoulders. “I’ve never… I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do,” he mumbles eventually. He’s still looking at Gwen’s face, can still feel his lips stretched into a smile even now, and he feels a bit like laughing (hysterically, yes, but the point stands). He thinks, for the first time in a long time, that maybe he is in love. Maybe this is what being in love feels like for him._

_“Oh!” Gwen gasps. “Oh, I see. Okay.” She laughs a little nervously._

_“Merlin nods. “Okay,” he replies. They’ve been saying that a lot, he notes. He’s not sure what else to say though._

_“Okay,” Gwen repeats. Merlin opens his mouth to say something (preferably something that is not_ okay _), but all that comes out is a weak sort of giggle. Gwen smiles at him. She looks a little nervous still, but less than she did before Merlin kissed her so he counts it as win. “So…” She stretches the word like it has five syllables instead of one. The fingers of her right hand are tapping against the counter. “Do you… want to? Like, try?”_

_Merlin bites at the inside of his cheek. He knows any boy from his class, Will included, would jump at this opportunity, would be saying yes in a heartbeat, but he himself is not entirely sure. He tries to imagine himself and Gwen as Liv and Brad from school, kissing in the hallways and holding hands all the time and going everywhere together. The holding hands and going everywhere together part sounds nice, but the kissing has been pretty underwhelming so far. He figures the least he can do is give it a shot though. “Um, yeah, sure. Okay.”_

_“Okay, great,” Gwen agrees. “You should probably, like, come closer,” she says. She spreads her legs a little, just enough for Merlin to step in between them, and puts one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip. He can feel the heat of her body all over his front and the silky fabric of her short pink skirt is soft against his lower stomach where his t-shirt is too short to cover. He leans on the counter so that his arms are around her and their faces are barely a breath away. “So I’m no expert, but just… follow my lead I guess?” Gwen suggests. Merlin can feel her fingers trembling a little where they grip his shoulder too tightly._

_He’s ready for it this time, not surprised by either Gwen or himself, so he closes his eyes in time, lets it happen as he takes it all in. He feels Gwen’s breath on his upper lip, smells the apple she had earlier on it. The kitchen feels warm, warmer than it did while he was baking, warmer than the sun had made it during the day. Gwen’s lips are soft on his when they finally connect; it’s just a gentle touch, the lightest pressure and this time Merlin doesn’t feel like he’s fucking something up by not reacting immediately. He takes a deep breath and lets himself relax and just_ feel _. His mind is quiet._

_Gwen smiles against his lips before tilting her head a little further sideways, slotting their mouths together better. She opens her mouth a little so Merlin can feel just a hint of heat and wetness on his lower lip, nothing much, perfectly right for the moment. She pulls back just enough to be able to speak. When she says, “You can, you know… Use your hands,” he feels it against his lips. He doesn’t open his eyes, just moves one of his hands awkwardly to her waist and leans back in to kiss her. He misses a bit, ends up pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips. Gwen laughs, but doesn’t give him shit for it. It’s him who opens his mouth this time, sucks in the breath she releases at that. The first time he feels her tongue touching his lips it startles him; he recovers pretty quickly, doesn’t really have time to properly panic because Gwen said_ follow my lead _so that’s what he does - flicks the tip of her tongue with his, applies a little more pressure and then they’re properly kissing and Merlin is starting to get why everyone likes kissing so much. It’s not just that it feels nice (it does, it really does even when he can feel that the excess spit is starting to pool in the corners of his mouth or when his thumb brushes the underside of Gwen’s bra accidentally), it’s also because it makes his stomach twist pleasantly and something flutter in his chest, because it makes him feel somehow closer to her, like what they have is even better now than it was yesterday._

_When Gwen pulls away it’s with this slightly dazed and definitely pleased expression on her face. She blinks her eyes open very slowly and licks her lips as she looks at him. Merlin has to wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand and he can feel that there’s sweat breaking out on his temples; he still feels fucking amazing though. “How was that for a first kiss?” Gwen asks, teasing a bit maybe, but gently, the way she always does. Merlin likes that, likes that this kiss doesn’t seem to change much between them._

_“I feel like I should probably be asking you that.” He’s a little self-conscious about it now that it’s over, unsure if it was as good for Gwen as he thought it was for him. He can still feel his lips tingling a little. They feel a little swollen and still slightly wet; he imagines they are a bit shiny, a deeper pink than they normally are - Gwen’s are. He blushes again._

_“Eh, you weren’t too bad,” she says with a wicked grin. She gives his lips another peck before hugging him tightly. Merlin hides his face in her neck and just breathes._

 

*

 

They meet Gwen and Arthur’s new boyfriend Lancelot at the pub. He’s Arthur’s partner from an undercover job form a few months back and he’s lovely and kind and charming and Merlin doesn’t want to steal their thunder, especially when he knows how long Arthur and Gwen have been looking for someone who’d fit in with them, he wants to celebrate that with them and not take away from the moment by announcing his own relationship.

 

It turns out he doesn’t have to because the moment Gwen sees them she’s smirking and nudging Arthur and then they’re all looking at them suspiciously and Merlin gives up with a sigh and wraps an arm around Gwaine’s waist.

 

It’s a sweet, intimate evening, the pub empty but for them and terrible, cheesy 90’s music playing at Morgana’s request and they sit and talk and play drinking games. Lancelot fits in with them like he was always meant to be there. Gwaine’s hand feels much the same on Merlin’s thigh.

 

The best part of it however might be when Lancelot says, “You two make a really cute couple. How did you meet?” and Merlin looks at Gwaine, manages to keep a straight face for about three seconds and then they both burst out laughing. They’ve told everyone at this table a different story and whatever they go with now is going to very obviously be a lie. He knows Gwaine realizes that because his answer is, well, less than believable.

 

“The walls in this building are really thin, you know? And one day Merlin fell into my bed through the ceiling.” There’s an awkward pause for a moment before Gwaine starts laughing and everyone joins in. Well, except for Gwen who reaches over and pinches Gwaine’s shoulder. “Ow! Okay, okay, I’m kidding, Jesus.” He looks sideways at Merlin and flashes him a smile before says, “Okay, you want the truth? I accidentally stole his wallet.” Everyone around them groans, but Merlin leans in and presses a kiss to Gwaine’s cheek.

 

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

 

*

 

Gwaine takes him on the best dates. They walk to the ruins of the old city, visit the old cathedral and have their pilgrimage booklets stamped full along the way. They explore the old part of the graveyard at dawn when the mist makes the metal crosses look even more crooked and surreal and the early morning light bathes everything in pinks and peaches. They sit by the river and feed ducks, eat their own lunch on a tiny wooden pier that’s seen better days but feels like a boat because it tilts with the wind. They sit in the cathedral for hours just talking and holding hands and they pretend to be in an anatomy class at the anatomical theater in the university museum and they take panoramic photos of the city from the castle and they chase each other in the botanical garden. One weekend Gwaine drives them out to the lake and they spend the day walking in the forest around it and getting their feet wet. They go to the fanciest, most expensive restaurant in the city just to mock it and Merlin ends up laughing so hard he cries (Gwaine orders one of the most expensive wines they offer and pays for the entire meal and Merlin knows Gwaine is rich, filthy rich even, that he can afford it and then some, that he only lives like a broke university student because he chooses to, but he feels so guilty that night that he invites himself into Gwaine’s apartment and tries to suck him off; the following morning they pretend Gwaine didn’t have to tell him no at least three times and that Merlin didn’t need help getting up the stairs and into his own bed). Merlin’s been in good, happy relationships before and he’s had people who knew what he liked but he’s never before been with someone who so perfectly fit with him, who knew so well exactly what to do and where to take him, who enjoyed the exact same things. Sometimes Merlin manages to forget just how much they’re _not_ supposed to fit.

 

Because they’ve been going out for a couple of months now and they haven’t— Merlin’s always thought the whole dating rules thing was silly, who cares if you wait a few hours or a few days to call or text, you should do it whenever you feel like it and who cares if you have sex on the first date or wait until the third or the fifth or the tenth. So he doesn’t think that people should do something they don’t want to just because someone somewhere decided that the third date is the magical time when you have sex. At the same time, he has a niggling feeling that he’s dragging it out too long. It’s nothing Gwaine does or says, no, Gwaine is absolutely perfect about it, letting Merlin take it as slow as he wants, reminding him all the time that anything that happens between them will have no bearing on Merlin’s job, telling him that it’s alright not to want the same things. And Merlin _knows_ these things, he _trusts_ Gwaine, he honestly, truly does.

 

And he still feels like he’s somehow holding Gwaine back, not letting Gwaine do what he wants, taking something away from him, like he _owes_ it to Gwaine to at least offer himself even if Gwaine keeps smiling at him sadly and rejecting him. They talked about it that one night when they sat at the pedestrian bridge over the river, legs snuck through the holes in the railing and swinging over the water, when Gwaine said _This has pretty much been a given so far, but I figure we should make it official; I’d like for us to be exclusive and I’d like to call you my boyfriend if that’s alright_ and Merlin said yes and then said no and they sat there long after the sun had gone down, hands linked between them and quiet voices whispering into the night. And Gwaine told him, promised, he’d never push Merlin for more than Merlin was willing to offer, that he’d never complain, that he’d never cheat; that he wanted Merlin just as he was. That Merlin didn’t need to be afraid and that he didn’t need to feel guilty, that Gwaine was as much in this as he was. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him and Merlin ended up cuddled against Gwaine’s side, quietly rubbing at his stinging eyes.

 

And yet. They kiss, they kiss a lot actually, and they hug and they cuddle and they go on dates and they hold hands and all their friends make fun of them and sometimes Merlin sits on Gwaine’s lap and sometimes they make out in one of their beds. And they never sleep together. And they don’t have sex. And it’s almost perfect, almost everything Merlin wants. If only he could feel good about getting it.

 

*

 

It starts with Merlin spending the night.

 

He’s exhausted, slept poorly the night before and went to meet Arthur for brunch halfway across town in the morning and Gwaine’s chest is such a comfortable place to rest his head on and he drifts off. He wakes up still wrapped in Gwaine’s arms, warm and relaxed and surrounded by his familiar smell. Gwaine is still asleep, snoring softly, lips parted and face relaxed. Merlin traces his features with the tip of his finger and watches the muscles twitch at the tickling touch. He’s been stripped down to his boxers and the long-sleeved tee he was wearing last night and Gwaine is only wearing boxer-briefs and a worn grey tee and there’s so much naked skin touching that it makes Merlin’s head spin. He loves this, loves the intimacy of being this close to someone and loves the feeling of soft skin on skin contact. He nudges one of his legs between Gwaine’s and snuggles as close as he can before going back to sleep.

 

*

 

It becomes a habit after that.

 

*

 

_stage three: you don’t need to prove to me that you love me. we’re different people, we love in different ways. i don’t need to understand yours to believe in it_

Merlin wakes up with Gwaine’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind. And a raging hard-on. It’s happened a few times already, the close proximity and their preference for sleeping in as few items of clothing as possible easily getting a reaction out of his body. He looks down at it, wondering if ignoring it or getting off is going to get him back to sleep faster. He squirms a little, presses back against Gwaine in an attempt to get even closer. It’s only when Gwaine presses a gentle kiss to his shoulder that he realizes he isn’t the only one awake. “‘Morngh—“ He clears his throat. “Morning.”

 

“Morning,” Gwaine replies. His beard tickles when he moves and Merlin’s skin breaks out in gooseflesh all over. He turns his head sideways and runs the tip of his nose over the side of Gwaine’s. He wants a kiss, but it’s definitely way too early in their relationship for morning kisses without teeth brushing. Gwaine kisses under his cheekbone and snuggles closer. When their hips press together, Merlin can feel the hard line of Gwaine’s cock against his ass. He’s not exactly in the mood, somehow never really is when he wakes up already hard, but his erection hasn’t completely gone down yet and he’s not repulsed by the idea of sex right now, so he wiggles a bit, rubs his ass against Gwaine’s cock until it slips between his cheeks. They’ve been dating a while now, had plenty of dates and no sex; he figures it’s about time he bit the bullet and offered Gwaine _something_. “Merlin?” Gwaine asks, voice coming out a little strained. His fingers on Merlin’s stomach tighten.

 

“’S alright, come on,” Merlin replies to a question Gwaine’s not really asking. He rolls his hips and feels Gwaine’s cock twitch, but Gwaine himself is staying still.

 

“You _want_ to… have sex?” he asks suspiciously.

 

The way he phrases it, the stress he puts on just the right word makes Merlin pause in his movements. “I don’t not want to?” he offers, the best answer he really has and maybe the most truthful he’s ever answered that question in a situation like this.

 

Gwaine huffs out a laugh and buries his face in the back of Merlin’s neck. “You do know that’s not actually a yes, right?” He has it off-handedly, like it’s the most obvious, most natural thing in the world, like what Merlin wants and doesn’t want is the most important thing in this situation, the deciding in factor in whether they do anything or not, and maybe it is and maybe it should be, but Merlin’s previous experience has taught him to expect pretty much any reaction but this one. He’s dangerously close to getting choked up at the worst possible time. Gwaine nuzzles into his shoulder and relaxes behind him, melting into the bed. “Come on, let’s just cuddle for a while, don’t wanna get up yet.” And the thing is, he sounds completely honest, perfectly content to just lie there and hold Merlin for a while; there’s nothing in his voice to suggest he’s settling in any way, no trace of resentment or disappointment. Maybe this is all gonna change, it’s still pretty early in the relationship and Merlin knows it’s not gonna be easy for Gwaine to be like this forever, but in that moment everything is just right.

 

*

 

One of Merlin’s favorite things about spending more time at Gwaine’s place than his own is showering together. Much like the sharing the same bed thing (which is another one of Merlin’s favorite things about sharing an apartment), it takes them a while to work up to it. Merlin is beginning to think the slow pace of their relationship is as much for Gwaine’s benefit as it is for his because he can tell Gwaine is trying hard to unlearn certain habits, to see situations he’d normally associate with sex in a different way, to adjust to Merlin’s needs and make sure Merlin is comfortable with everything. He appreciates that so he figures he can for once let someone else have their time.

 

He thinks it might be the nudity that’s the issue. Merlin’s never had a particular problem with nudity around previous partners; he’s not the most attractive person he’s ever seen, is definitely not on Gwaine’s level, but he knows he’s average, he’s decent, he’s alright. Even at his worst, despite rather common digs at his looks from Edwin, Merlin’s only ever suffered the occasional pang of self-consciousness over his body. He doesn’t get that around Gwaine and he doesn’t even realize at first that stripping in front of Gwaine, walking from the bedroom to the shower and back naked and the like could potentially be considered awkward situations for them. By the time the idea catches up to him it’s too late though and they’re already used to being naked around each other. Once they’re over that it seems easier to cross most other occasional barriers.

 

It happens one evening after a long day when they don’t really have anything to do or anywhere to be; it’s not needing to save time or water that has Merlin asking, “Hey, wanna shower with me?” It’s wanting to feel close to his boyfriend. And he thinks Gwaine gets that.

 

He gets surprisingly into it, Gwaine does. He goes a little wild buying different bath and shower products, pretty much always sneaks in with Merlin when Merlin’s taking a shower, pretty much always suggests they shower together. Not that Merlin minds. It’s a strangely bonding experience, being with someone in such close quarters with nothing to hide behind and having someone’s hands all over you without any sexual intent. That’s not to say that there aren’t mornings and evenings when Gwaine hugs him in the shower and he can feel the hard line of Gwaine’s cock against his ass or thigh or hip. Gwaine never acknowledges it with more than a joke though, so Merlin lets it go. He’s trying to break old habits too after all, and offering sex even when he’s not in the mood for it just to please the other person is the chief among them.

 

*

 

The first and only time Merlin sees Edwin after he gets away is rough. They’re outside, walking around, turning down random streets and alleys, entering any and all shops that seem interesting, buying little trinkets, vintage postcards and pretty handmade scarves. They hold hands and they stop to share an ice-cream and they sit by the river and Merlin sends Morgana a silly snap of a drop of ice cream melted and dripping down Gwaine’s beard. They’re already slowly making their way home, play fighting over which one of them needs a shower more and which one is going to open _Avalon_ even though Merlin knows no matter how much he bitches and complains now, Gwaine will let him have a shower and a nap and open on his own without a word when it actually comes down to it.

 

And then Merlin sees him. For a second he thinks, it’s not him. He’s imagining it. It wouldn’t be the first time. But it is, it is definitely him, with his arm around another boy who looks so much like Merlin that Merlin almost thinks he’s seeing himself from two, three years back. He recognizes the pale skin and the messy hair and the long sleeves pulled down over the boy’s hands. Because that _was_ him for far too long. He has the most unusual urge to go over there and rip that boy away from him, tell him that he deserves so much better, that if he lets it happen, Edwin will ruin him. He does none of that though because the very next second his eyes are meeting Edwin’s and he feels like someone’s punched him in the stomach. The eye contact is brief because Merlin can’t stand it for long, has to look away before he’s either sick or tempted to go and beg Edwin to take him back, but it kick-starts an anxiety attack the likes of which he hasn’t felt in a long time and he knows he needs to get away from there and _fast_.

 

He starts running down familiar streets, takes the quickest shortcut home only vaguely aware of people looking at him, of Gwaine following him at a small distance, of bumping into men and women and cars and bikes stopping to let him pass. It’s disheartening how strong of a reaction he still has to this man, even after such a long time, even after he thinks he’s moved on. All it took was one look and he felt almost like he was thrown back in time, flown back into his old self, insecure and sad and constantly beating himself up over being a bad boyfriend, over things he knows he shouldn’t have to feel guilty for.

 

It’s pure dumb luck that he’s the one who took the key when they left – he shoves it in the door now, unlocks it quickly and leaves it open before running into Gwaine’s bedroom and closing that door behind himself. He hears it when Gwaine walks in, closes and locks the front door, sits down on the couch in the living room. He calls someone, Merlin thinks probably Lancelot, maybe Gwen, asks them to take the pub for the night, tells them he has something more important to deal with. Even in the middle of a panic attack, Merlin feels a flutter of fondness in his chest. Gwaine’s presence on the other side of the door is somewhat soothing; Merlin is more aware of his surroundings than he’s been during these episodes in the past and he’s not slipped entirely into that catatonic state he usually associates with panic attacks, he keeps the door closed though, just lies on the bed, curled up in a ball, waiting for it to pass. He likes that he can hear Gwaine moving around the apartment, just _being_ there, but he doesn’t want him closer for now, doesn’t want anyone touching him or seeing him like this. He grabs one of the smaller pillows and presses it against his face so he’s barely breathing because he knows that at some point soon the crying will come and he’d rather no one heard.

 

There’s a knock on the door at some point after Merlin’s lost track of the passing of time, just a quiet rasp of fingers, like Gwaine doesn’t want to wake him up in case he’s sleeping. “Yeah?” he answers, probably more out of habit than for any other reason. His voice is strained and scratchy from all the crying. He hears a dull thump from the other side of the door, like Gwaine’s resting his head against it.

 

“I made some pasta,” he says, “it’s in the oven and it’ll stay warm for a while yet. There’s beer and orange juice in the fridge.” There’s a short pause where Merlin is sure this conversation is finally going to go where he expects it to, but then Gwaine just asks, “Do you want me to go?” in a voice so quiet Merlin can barely make out the words through the door. He feels a fresh wave of tears coming up and wipes his nose on his sleeve.

 

“I want you to come in,” he admits. Like Gwaine’s only been waiting for his permission (and he probably _was_ , probably wouldn’t have come in if Merlin hadn’t invited him, probably would’ve left if Merlin had asked even though it’s _his_ apartment and that moment, knowing that his word is final and he gets to have that no matter what, is maybe the most powerful Merlin’s ever felt), the knob turns immediately and Gwaine slips into the room. He closes the door behind himself after a second and stays standing just inside.

 

“What do you need?” he asks, as if it’s just that simple, as if Merlin didn’t just have a major freak out at just the sight of someone on the street, as if all Merlin needs to do is ask for whatever he needs and Gwaine will get it done, no questions asked.

 

“You’re not gonna ask me what happened?” Merlin asks. He’s got his own arms wrapped around himself and he’s hunched over in a sort of sitting upright fetal position, but he’s still shaking; he watches Gwaine leaning against the wall and wants Gwaine’s arms around him instead.

 

“I don’t care what happened,” Gwaine says slowly, like this is the most obvious thing in the world and Merlin is the one being unreasonable here. Merlin scoffs. “Fine, obviously I care what happened,” Gwaine allows. “But not as much as I care about what you need _right now_ because you’ve been in here for hours and you’re scaring me so right now, this very moment, I need you to tell me not what is wrong, but what I can do to help.”

 

Merlin thinks, it’s not that easy. He says, “Can you just, like, hold me for a while?” It comes out a bit stammered and shaky and weak and Merlin hates that Edwin still has this effect on him, it’s been _years_ , he thought he was over it and he can’t help but think of this as a setback, a failure in his plan to move on and get better and it’s just… a lot to deal with.

 

Gwaine is next to him in the blink of an eye, climbing onto the bed and pulling Merlin down so they’re lying face to face; he hugs Merlin close just the way Merlin likes, with one arm tight around his waist and the other splayed over his back so the hand cradles the back of his head, with their legs all tangled together so it’s a proper full-body hug and it’s exactly the thing Merlin needs. He already feels like he’s breathing easier and while the anxiety is nowhere near gone, it’s not as prevalent as it was mere minutes ago. Merlin is so relieved he barely even notices Gwaine kissing his forehead and shushing him gently, saying, “Yeah, of course I can do that, for as long as you want.”

 

Merlin buries his face in Gwaine’s chest and stays there, breathing in the now familiar smell of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke and feeling the anxiety slowly bleed out of him like Gwaine is some sort of a giant, magical leech. The mental image would be funny if it didn’t also remind him of the fact that there is something _wrong_ with him, something that needs curing and fixing, that this is likely the moment when Gwaine finally realizes just how broken Merlin really is and decides he doesn’t actually want to deal with it. He clings onto Gwaine’s shirt, afraid that the moment he lets go, Gwaine will get up and leave. Merlin wouldn’t blame him, but it would still hurt. So he holds on tighter and commits this moment to memory for when he needs a reminder that at some point someone just did whatever he needed.

 

It’s kind of hypocritical of him to be honest – just a few hours previous in this very same bed he was on top of Gwaine during a tickle fight, he felt Gwaine get hard and he knows Gwaine got himself off in the bathroom afterwards and that’s unfair, it’s unfair that Gwaine does everything for him and Merlin can’t even take a few moments out of his day to give him a helping hand. He gives himself a few more minutes until he stops sniffling and then trails his hands down Gwaine’s chest before going for his belt.

 

The second Gwaine figures out where he’s going with it, he jumps as if burned and that’s just great, now Merlin’s finally done it if Gwaine doesn’t even want him for sex. A broken sounding sob rips out of him before he can swallow it down. Edwin always said he didn’t look nearly as appealing when he was crying. “Whoa, hey, what are you doing?” Gwaine asks. “Haven’t we been over this once or twice already?” He doesn’t sound angry, just very confused, so Merlin does his best to gather his thoughts enough to reply.

 

“I just… wanted to give you something back.”

 

Gwaine laughs at that, honest to God _laughs_ , and Merlin feels suddenly very stupid. Then Gwaine takes both of his hands and kisses each of his fingers. “You _are_ giving me something back, every time we talk and every time we go out and every time we hug or kiss or cuddle. Okay? Sex is not a currency, you don’t pay me in it for being a decent boyfriend.” He uses their joint hands to tilt Merlin’s head up so they’re looking at each other. Merlin knows he probably looks like a mess with his hair tugged every which way and his eyes all red and puffy and drying tear stains all over his face, but Gwaine still just kisses the tip of his nose and murmurs, “Somebody did a proper number on you, didn’t they? I’m sorry about that.”

 

Merlin can’t look at him after that, too overwhelmed to do anything other than close his eyes and let Gwaine pull him back into a hug for a long, long time. He’s not sure if he sleeps or just drifts in that surreal place between dream and reality, but it’s dark and silent outside when he finally has the capacity to untangle himself from Gwaine and sit up on his own. Gwaine keeps a hand low on his back even then, just a gentle reminder that he’s there; it grounds Merlin, for which he is grateful, but it also reminds him of how small and weak and pathetic he feels after that episode so he shakes it off. Gwaine raises his eyebrows at him, then just easily puts his arms above his head where Merlin can see the both of them. There’s no part of them that’s touching anymore; Merlin can still feel Gwaine’s eyes on him though and for some reason that alone is enough to keep him calm.

 

He runs a hand over his face. “So that happened,” he says.

 

“Yep, that happened,” Gwaine agrees. Merlin really wants to know what’s going through Gwaine’s head right now, but more than that he wants not to know because he’s scared of what it could be.

 

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

 

One of Gwaine’s hands moves seemingly on instinct, reaching out for Merlin; Gwaine catches himself in time, though, raises that same hand in the air as if to show where it is and puts it back down on the pillow above his head. “You don’t have to apologize for that. And, for the record, you don’t have to tell me about it either.”

 

Merlin feels one corner of his mouth tug upwards. “But you do want to know,” he points out. Gwaine just shrugs. He’s a picture, stretched out over white sheets and soft blankets, the silver moonlight casting his face in deep shadows and near glowing highlights. He’s the best thing that’s happened to Merlin in a long time and he doesn’t want to lose that. “I’ve had some bad relationships before you,” he says as neutrally as he can.

 

“I’ve figured that part out, yes,” Gwaine replies drily.

 

“And sometimes it’s a bit harder to forget that I’m not in those relationships anymore.” _That_ gets Gwaine’s attention apparently; he frowns and very obviously holds back from asking something. Merlin figures if they are having this conversation, he might as well get it all over with tonight. He’s at that point of exhaustion when it no longer really matters because he doesn’t have the energy to feel anything more than drained so he figures that if he’s gonna be ripping any bandaids off he should do that now. “Go ahead, ask.”

 

“I don’t… I don’t want to make this a conversation about me because it’s _not_ , and it’s important that you know that, okay, but… Do I do something that reminds you of those relationships? Because if I do, for the love of all that is sacred, tell me so I can stop.”

 

Something hits Merlin suddenly; he’s shocked he didn’t notice before. “Have you done this already with someone?”

 

Gwaine looks away when he answers. “Not quite like this, but yeah.”

 

Well, Merlin figures, that makes a lot of sense. “Oh,” he says quietly, certain puzzle pieces slotting into place in his mind. In the middle of all the heaviness and glum of the night he suddenly feels that familiar warm feeling he gets around Gwaine sometimes, the one that makes him wonder how he ever managed to get so lucky. “You don’t do anything wrong. Like, quite literally, perfect boyfriend and all that.” Gwaine cracks a smile at that. Merlin can’t help smiling back. “It’s me, I guess I’m just still… a bit stuck in that time of my life. I like to think I’ve moved on and I’m all better now.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He notices that he’s not shaking anymore. “Clearly not.” He puts one hand down on the bed, walks it over to Gwaine’s side and pokes at it gently in question. Gwaine doesn’t even look away from his face as he laces their fingers together. “It’s weird, sometimes it’s like there are two versions of me - the me that I like to think I am, the me who moved on, who’s over it, who’s better now; and then there’s the me that I was with him, the me that I become every time I see him apparently. Sometimes I look at that version of myself and I don’t even recognize that person. That’s gotta be messed up, right?”

 

Gwaine squeezes his hand so tightly it’s actually painful. “Whatever it is, it’s _not_ your fault.”

 

“No, I know that. Kind of. Rationally. In my head,” Merlin agrees. His problem is that sometimes his mind and his emotions aren’t on the same page. It seems to be a theme in his life. “But it still _feels_ like it is sometimes? Like I _let_ him do this to me.”

 

Gwaine sucks in a noisy breath and tugs on Merlin’s hand. “Wanna come here for a cuddle?” he asks. Merlin falls on top of him immediately. He’s quickly wrapped up in Gwaine’s arms again; it makes him relax somewhat, almost enough for him to feel normal again. “There’s water on the nightstand and some painkillers,” Gwaine says, lips moving against his forehead. “And I want you to know that whatever happened to you was not in any way your fault.” Merlin knows this on some level, it’s not really anything groundbreaking or new, but it’s still nice to hear it spoken out loud.

 

“Sorry I tried to, you know. _Again_.”

 

“ _I’m_ sorry. That someone made you believe that was all you had to offer.”

 

*

 

 _It’s not all bad. It’s not_ always _bad. Merlin lives in a nice big airy apartment in the posh area of the city, he buys the best groceries and eats at the best restaurants and has the best clothes. He has a boyfriend who cares about him so much he checks up on him all the time, gives him everything he needs or even just wants, showers him with attention and gifts. He goes on dates. He doesn’t need to work. He has everything and all he needs to give in return is to be a good boyfriend. Merlin knows he has nothing to complain about._

_It’s not so bad when it starts, a scarce two or three months into the relationship. Edwin is the jealous type and Merlin gets that, Arthur got jealous pretty easily too and Merlin himself is not immune. So Merlin stops going out with Arthur and Morgana and Gwen so often. It goes from three or even four nights a week to two, then to one. Eventually to none. And then he quits his job because Edwin says his coworker is looking at him funny and he doesn’t like it. It’s still not too bad. Most people would love to be in a position where they can have more than they ever earned without actually working._

_It’s not even that bad the first time Edwin keeps touching him after he says he’s not in the mood. Edwin likes sex, says he needs it, and Merlin’s gotten him off before. Most of the time when Edwin comes to him with kisses and touches and suggestive words, Merlin is in that place where he’s feeling neutral about sex. He’d still prefer not to be having it, but it’s not_ that _bad that he is. Sometimes he has these moments when he really,_ really _doesn’t want it though and it’s not an issue until about four months in, maybe five, when Edwin tells him that_ Oh, come on, it’s not so bad, are you sure you don’t wanna? _and Merlin_ is _sure but he lets Edwin convince him. And then it stops being_ are you sure you don’t wanna? _and becomes_ come on, love, gotta give me something _and well, that’s_ true _, Merlin thinks, it’s unfair that Edwin does so much for him and he’s not paying it back in kind. Edwin is a good boyfriend, he deserves someone who won’t complain about something so simple as sex. After all, Merlin doesn’t_ not _find sex pleasurable, so it’s not like it's a big hardship, right?_

_In time, however, it stops being a question at all. And it’s one night with his face in the pillow and his body limp from exhaustion and Edwin on top of him, taking him roughly that Merlin thinks_ it’s not supposed to be like this.

 

*

 

Merlin doesn’t know what possess him to talk about it. It’s been five years, almost to the day, since he’s left Edwin. It’s been nearly four years with Gwaine. It’s been two years since he last saw the face he’ll probably never forget. He hasn’t spoken about it to anyone. Of course Morgana and Arthur and Gwen all know bits and pieces, mostly things they themselves figured out, but Merlin doubts they have any idea of how bad it really got. Gwen still asks him whenever they’re alone and Merlin’s tipsy-leaning-towards-drunk, and he still avoids to answer, gives vague replies or flat out refuses to say anything. Arthur and Morgana don’t even ask. It’s the one thing that Merlin’s always appreciated about how their relationships work – Morgana trusts him to work it out himself and come to her when he’s ready and Arthur usually gets it without words.

 

But he wakes up one day and he wants to talk about it. It is literally that simple. He could never pinpoint the exact moment he decided the frustration building between him and Arthur was getting too toxic and ended their relationship. He will probably never be able to pick out the moment he decided Will’s bitterness was too much and not worth the trouble and staying in touch. No one single experience made him decide he wanted to switch instead of only being Morgana’s sub. And there was never that one straw that broke the camel’s back in his relationship with Edwin, never _one_ intensely bad moment, never one single moment of clarity, it was a process, muddled and not at all straight forward, it was progress and slipping back and deciding and changing his mind and changing it back again. But with this, there is just one single moment. He wakes up. He sees Gwaine lying next to him, reading. He feels Gwaine’s fingers scratching lightly at his scalp. And he just knows.

 

“His name was Edwin. Still is, I suppose,” is the first thing he says.

 

Gwaine frowns at him, dogearing his book and blindly putting it away. There’s a faint smile visible in the corners of his lips. “Good morning?”

 

Merlin ignores the greeting. He wants to talk about it. That doesn’t mean it’s not hard and it doesn’t mean there isn’t a part of him freaking out that Gwaine will think less of him for this and it doesn’t mean that there isn't a good chance he’ll chicken out if he gives himself enough time. “His name was Edwin and we met in a museum. They had a guest collection, Egyptian mummies, and he was looking at the urns. And he asked which one I liked best.”

 

Gwaine’s stopped smiling now, stopped carding his fingers through Merlin’s hair too (which Merlin doesn’t really appreciate but he doesn’t want to stop talking now that he’s started). He turns on his side, props his head up on his arm and runs his hand down Merlin’s bare back. He leaves it resting in the dip before his ass, rubs small soothing circles into the skin.

 

“He seemed—“ Merlin takes a moment to think of the right word. Nice is too plain, too weak. Good is not what he means, Edwin never seemed _good_ , Merlin is not sure why he didn’t trust that feeling in his gut, he would’ve saved himself a world of pain. “He seemed like he got me. He’s a private tutor and an inventor, he’s rich, he’s knowledgeable… He seemed, at the time at least, like someone I’d want to know.” Gwaine’s looking at him so intensely Merlin wonders if he’s even breathing. “He took me out on fancy dates. He bought me gifts. He asked me to move in. Everything seemed so… perfect. I didn’t even realize he was distancing me from my friends until it was already too late. Didn’t realize his jealousy left me with no work, no one to talk to, nobody in my life but him. I didn’t even notice until I was pretty much wholly dependent on him.”

 

Gwaine leans in and brushes a gentle kiss to his hairline. “Oh, Merlin…” Merlin can feel the hand on his back shaking a little. He takes a deep breath and continues.

 

“He never hit me. He didn’t really need to. He knew exactly what to say to manipulate me into doing what he wanted. Knew exactly what to do to break me down. He’d hold me down sometimes when he—“ His breath hitches a little there. There are things about what happened to him that he’s come to terms with in time, things he’s learned to refer to for what they were, even in his head. There are some things though that he doesn’t think he’ll ever really be able to talk about. “He’d say I was a bad boyfriend when I didn’t want to have sex with him. He’d say that I _owed_ him that much for everything he did for me. And I believed it.” He doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes until he has to open them to look at Gwaine. “And then I left. I sold most of my stuff and I worked occasionally in a bakery at the corner from our building and I found the cheapest possible apartment and I left. Didn’t say anything, didn’t leave a note, changed my phone number, deleted my social media. I was standing in front of _Avalon_ and I still didn’t think I’d manage to do it. But here I am.”

 

Gwaine smiles. “Here you are. I’m proud of you. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

 

Merlin shrugs. He’s sorry too. But it happened and it’s over and he’s alive and he’s alright. That’s gotta count for something. “I still miss that apartment,” he says to lighten the mood.

 

Gwaine snorts. “No, you don’t, you hated that place. Could barely turn around in the shower, it was awful!”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Seriously, though. I’m proud of you,” Gwaine says softly, putting his hand on the side of Merlin’s face and running his thumb over the cheekbone.

 

Merlin thinks about that for a second. Then, “Yeah, me too.”

 

“Good. Now come here, I need a cuddle after that.”

 

*

 

_stage four: it’s not perfect, but it doesn’t have to be; if you want it enough, if you try really hard, if you don’t give up, you can make it work_

*

 

_“Is it, like, a physical thing?” Will asks uncertainly. He’s still a bit sweaty and out of breath, but Merlin kind of likes it that way. It reminds him of how much Will enjoys himself when they have sex, how much he puts into it. He runs a finger down Will’s sternum._

_“I don’t think so,” he says. “I mean, it’s happened before. I’ve gotten hard before.”_

_Will hums. Merlin can tell this is bothering him even though it’s not really a problem for Merlin. He’s not sure how to explain it and have it make sense, that what Will is doing isn’t_ wrong _or even_ unpleasant _, it’s just… it doesn’t have the same effect on him that it does on Will. “Does it happen often? When you’re not with me, I mean?”_

_Merlin snorts. “I’m not shacking up with half the town, God.”_

_Will swats at him weakly. “Not what I meant. Like, when you’re alone. Do you jerk off?”_

_“Oh, um…” Merlin knows this is probably a conversation they have to have because he’s seen Will get progressively more frustrated with their situation but it’s still uncomfortable, makes him feel oddly vulnerable because this is not like when he hears other boys boast about sex at school, it’s an honest discussion, a serious relationships talk and Merlin is as nervous about it as he is excited about what it means for them as a couple. “Not that often?” he finally answers._

_“How often is not that often? Like once a week? Once a month?”_

_Merlin hides his face in Will’s arm. “Like once. In my life.”_

_Will whistles. “_ Really _?” It sounds like he can’t decide if he wants to be impressed or weirded out. “But_ how _?”_

_Merlin giggles at his tone. Sex makes him all relaxed and happy, a kind of contact high he supposes when he sees Will in a similar state. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t… I don’t feel like doing it I guess.”_

_“What do you do when you get horny?”_

_Merlin shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t think I do get horny.”_

_“That’s… Is that, like, possible?”_

_That stings a bit. “Apparently.”_

_“Sorry, I didn’t mean—“ Will huffs in annoyance. “Didn’t mean it like that. Have you, um… Have you talked to someone about it? Like, a doctor or something?”_

That _stings more than just a bit because clearly Will_ did _mean it that way. Merlin’s quickly getting more tense and frustrated and he sits up and starts getting dressed. “I’m not sick, Will. Just because I don’t like your dick doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me.” And that’s a bit cruel, Merlin knows, but he feels like being a bit cruel to Will right now. It’s got nothing to do with_ Will’s _dick, nothing to do with dicks at all, and everything to do with how he_ feels _, but as he slams the door shut behind himself, it’s just semantics he can’t be bothered with._

*

 

They’ve taken a trip south to visit the biggest renaissance fair in the country and they’re sleeping in a cave when Merlin decides he’s kind of horny. He’s hugging Gwaine from behind, curled around him almost protectively as he seeks out the body heat, his nose pressed behind Gwaine’s ear and he hasn’t felt it in so long that he almost doesn’t recognize it. It’s not how Will used to describe it, a burning need to get off or anything so dramatic as that, it’s just a faint restlessness that he could ignore if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to though.

 

He nudges at Gwaine, pokes his stomach and bites at his neck until Gwaine wakes up with a grunt and turns around, all sleepy and slow. Before he has the time to say anything Merlin kisses him. “Merlin, what the hell, it’s the middle of the night,” Gwaine grumbles.

 

Merlin just grins and kisses him again. They’re both wearing actual clothes, tracksuits and long-sleeved tees, because the cave is a lot colder than they expected, but Merlin has no trouble finding Gwaine’s cock and cupping it in his hand. He smirks when Gwaine moans before he can stop himself.

 

“Merlin,” he warns. “What are you doing?”

 

“Wanna get off,” Merlin replies. He’s feeling a bit giddy about it all, can’t wait to see how beautiful Gwaine must be when he’s hard and desperate for it, how he must look when he comes.

 

Gwaine grabs his wrist. “Want to or don’t not want to?” he asks.

 

Merlin pecks his lips. “Honestly, thank you, I appreciate that you always make sure. But I _want_ to.” Gwaine looks at him for quite some time, probably trying to read from Merlin’s face if he’s serious. Eventually he lets go of Merlin’s arm.

 

“Okay,” he says. Merlin kisses him again just for that, for the way he accepts it easily, for how he doesn’t question and doesn’t ask for explanations. For how he lets Merlin decide. He swings a leg over Gwaine’s hips and straddles his thighs for better access. Some cold air comes into their little cocoon of blankets, but Merlin doesn’t care; they’re both already sweating a bit and he plans on making it worse.

 

He gets Gwaine off easily and quickly, finds him already fully hard when he pulls his underwear down and follows Gwaine’s instructions on what he likes. By the time Gwaine comes over his hand, Merlin’s changed his mind about getting off himself, just wants to cuddle up close and live forever in this moment, but he hasn’t regretted his decision. He tucks Gwaine’s softening cock back into his underwear and lies on top, pressing a smile against the side of Gwaine’s neck.

 

“Can I do something for you?” Gwaine asks quietly.

 

Merlin only squirms closer and pulls Gwaine’s arms around himself. “Nope, just this. I like this.”

 

“What do you like about it?”

 

Merlin’s never been able to put into words why he likes sex or at least the kind of it that he does. He wants Gwaine to get it though, wants Gwaine to understand that this is not Merlin taking pity on him and it’s not Merlin feeling guilty or thinking it’s his duty to do it. “I like… the intimacy of it. I like that I can feel _your_ pleasure and that I can give it to you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, when I’m in the mood and it’s good, I like it physically too, but… For me, it’s more about… feeling close.”

 

Gwaine kisses his temple. “Okay,” he says simply. And that’s that.

 

*

 

_When Freya breaks up with him, it’s not a surprise. It’s not even unpleasant. She’s kind and gentle and wonderful like she always is and they don’t argue or cry or even have any awkward conversations. Merlin thinks it’s been coming for a while and they’ve both known it, so he’s prepared for it. He helps her pack her things and they share a hug at the door for goodbye and it’s the most amicable, anticlimactic breakup of Merlin’s life. It should probably be easy to move on from it._

_For nights on end though, Merlin finds himself crying into Arthur’s shoulder or going to Morgana and begging her to whip him until he bleeds. They don’t ask what’s wrong and that’s good, because he’s not sure he can explain it. It’s for the best, that breakup, that much he’s sure of, their relationship had no future and he gets that. What he doesn’t get is how he’s ever supposed to make a relationship with anyone work when even dating someone who’s like him, who_ gets _it he manages to fuck up._

 

*

 

The first time Gwaine fucks him is probably the best sex he’s ever had.

 

They still don’t do it often, still mostly stick to holding hands and kissing and cuddles and Gwaine still doesn’t ever initiate more, but it happens here and there. Merlin gets him off with a hand around his cock and lots and lots of kisses, even sucks him off once though that’s one of the things that does absolutely nothing for him (Gwaine notices, of course he does, tells him he doesn’t want to do things that are _only_ for him). The thing that makes it so good though is that Gwaine picks up on what he likes easily and finds different ways to give it to him. Gwaine’s versatile in bed, willing to try just about anything, offers everything up to Merlin and just goes with it. They find that they both like to be fingered and eaten out and sometimes Merlin craves that not for the sexual value of it but for how close to Gwaine it makes him feel. It takes him a few tries to convince Gwaine that the fact that he doesn’t even get hard most of the time is not an indication of how much he’s enjoying it.

 

When Gwaine gets him off for the first time, Merlin thinks nothing can top that experience; he spends more than two hours lying pliantly on his front while Gwaine kisses him everywhere, eats him out all messy and wet, fingers him slowly, works him up to taking his fist. Merlin comes harder than he probably ever has, slurs afterwards that if people always feel like that when they come he gets why they have sex. He’s not sure if Gwaine comes at all that night because for once, sex is all for him.

 

And then Gwaine takes him to his childhood home, an actual real castle turned into a hotel now. It’s their third anniversary and they’re celebrating by doing a tour of Gwaine’s favorite castles and Merlin spends the day being guided around medieval ruins and learning about craftsmanship of swords in the local museum and getting wined and dined in the evening; it’s just one of those days when he doesn’t think of anything but what’s right in front of him and by the end of it he’s pink cheeked and giggly from a glass of wine and the feeling of being loved and he climbs onto Gwaine’s lap and kisses him and asks, “Fuck me tonight?” It’s slow and it’s sweaty and it’s wonderful, it’s Gwaine undressing him in the dim light of a single lamp and it’s wet kisses and gentle hands on his skin and it’s Gwaine’s fingers playing him expertly and looking into Gwaine’s eyes as Gwaine enters him and it’s slow rolls of his hips and Gwaine’s forehead pressed against his and it’s Gwaine’s arms around him the entire time and it’s feeling Gwaine’s heartbeat against his chest when he comes and it’s easily the single most intense sexual experience of Merlin’s entire life. It’s everything he’s ever wanted from sex and he’s so overwhelmed from it afterwards that he goes under, crying into Gwaine’s shoulder while Gwaine holds him and shushes him to sleep.

 

*

 

 _He’s the one who kisses Arthur in a moment of drunken recklessness. At that point, he’s still not entirely sure Arthur is even into guys. Arthur kisses back though and that’s how it starts. It works well until it doesn’t and then it doesn’t work at all. It works for a long time though, for years. It works because they care about each other, because they’ve seen each other through good and bad, because deep down they’ll always be the best of friends. It works because Merlin doesn’t want to have sex and Arthur doesn’t want to have sex with_ men _. It works because they’re happy together, the best versions of themselves when they’re around each other. It stops working because they’re settling. It stops working because Merlin falls out of love and stays out of habit, it stops working because Arthur doesn’t want sex with_ him _but he does want it with someone else, it stops working because when they’re not the best versions of themselves to each other, they’re the worst. And for some reason they stay, habit and convenience and inertia, until it gets so bad they’re hardly even friends anymore. Because they know each other so well, see, they know exactly how to hurt each other most and it’s awful, it’s_ toxic _, and Merlin ends it. It’s hard and he doesn’t want to stop fighting, but he’d rather give up and keep Arthur as a friend. So that’s what he does._

 

*

 

When Gwaine first suggests it, Merlin thinks it’s a polite way of telling him their relationship has run its course and it’s time to move on. He looks at the closets where their clothes hang all mixed up, where he can no longer tell what originally belonged to whom, looks at the apartment they’ve only been sharing for two years, but that bears signs of both of them all over from the artwork on the walls to the mismatched mugs in their cupboards. And he thinks it’s over.

 

He still doesn’t remember what Gwaine said to break him out of the numbness and the catatonic headspace and he’s still not sure how Gwaine convinced him to try it out, but he’s glad he agreed to it. It’s difficult at times watching Gwaine flirt with other people, even more difficult when he picks out someone he clicks with so well Merlin can tell they’d be good together (be better together than he and Gwaine are). He even puts a stop to it a few times, asks that they go home and just have a night in and Gwaine agrees, every time, without a question or a second thought and that helps, to know that even when Gwaine is picking someone up for himself, Merlin gets a say.

 

See, it works like this: sometimes Merlin wants to have sex, but most of the time he doesn’t. So sometimes Gwaine picks someone up, just for sex, nothing else, a nonnegotiable take-it-or-leave-it kind of deal. And sometimes Merlin wants to be a part of that, to watch or to dictate or even participate. It’s a flexible kind of thing. It’s a tricky balance to satisfy them both, one that relies on trust and honesty and good communication. It takes them a few tries and a few fails, but eventually they get it right. And it works surprisingly well. Most nights it’s still just them, working side by side serving drinks or cuddling on their big comfy sofa in front of the TV. Some nights they do more than that. Some nights they do more than that with someone else. And some night Merlin reads a book in the kitchen while he waits for Gwaine to finish with his pick of the night. It’s not exactly how Merlin imagined he’d end up, but it works for them.

 

*

Gwaine’s flirting is an art. Merlin likes to watch him work sometimes, approach people of all genders and chat them up smoothly until they’d do anything for him. He feels a bit like he’s missed out on quite an experience in life for not getting properly hit on by his own boyfriend. At the same time it makes him feel special because Gwaine never put the moves on him even though he flirts with anyone that breathes. The boy Gwaine is currently talking to is already charmed, actually looks about five seconds away from just dropping to his knees for Gwaine right there, but Merlin can tell from Gwaine’s body language, the way he holds himself back just that little bit that there’s something off about the guy; maybe he’s not into whatever Gwaine’s in the mood for right now or maybe he’s not willing to get involved in the complicated labyrinth that is their relationship. Either way, it doesn’t look like he’s the one going home with them tonight.

 

On second thought, Merlin is not sure he wants _anyone_ going home with them tonight. They talked about it this morning and Gwaine explicitly asked him what he was in the mood for and at the time he said he’d prefer to watch tonight, but the more he sees of Gwaine’s flirting, the more charming smiles and casual touches, the more _he_ wants. It hasn’t been that long since Gwaine’s had him, just over two weeks probably; he didn’t feel then the way he feels now though, not nearly. He finishes his drink as he watches Gwaine approach a pretty girl on the dance floor and makes up his mind.

 

Gwaine doesn’t seem surprised to find Merlin behind him when Merlin touches his waist. He smiles this brilliant smile at him, wider and dorkier than those he’s been giving out all night, the one he saves only for the people who really matter. Merlin leans in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

 

“Not to your liking?” Gwaine asks, his breath tickling the shell of Merlin’s ear when he has to speak right against it to be heard over the music.

 

“I think I’ve changed my mind,” Merlin shouts back, “I think tonight I’d like you all to myself.”

 

Gwaine’s hand on his hip slides slowly backwards to cup his ass. “Yeah?” he says, the way he always does, just to make sure. Merlin just kisses him in response, harder than before, with an obscene amount of tongue and a scrape of teeth, the way he knows Gwaine likes to be kissed when he’s getting fucked. He puts both of his hands in Gwaine’s back pockets and pulls him in until they’re grinding together to the beat of the music.

 

“Yeah,” he finally confirms when he manages to drag his mouth away for long enough to speak. He feels it when Gwaine’s breath hitches and his hips shift restlessly forward. He’s already getting hard, Merlin can feel it against his thigh, worked up from just the mere _suggestion_ and that’s really working for Merlin too, he feeds on Gwaine’s excitement when it comes to this; he just hopes he doesn’t change his mind by the time they get home – it’s happened before and Gwaine’s never exactly _complained_ , but Merlin knows he gets frustrated, having to go between hot and cold so suddenly and adjust. It never fails to make Merlin feel guilty no matter how many times Gwaine tells him it’s fine. He wishes they’d picked a place closer to home when they decided to go out tonight.

 

Gwaine walks them backwards into a wall, picks Merlin up easily and holds him there with his hips. “Wanna go home?” he asks in between wet kisses he traces over Merlin’s neck. “Or do you think we should stay here? The bathroom maybe, or I know they have VIP rooms in the back if you prefer.” Merlin’s long since learned not to feel embarrassed by these questions around Gwaine; it’s pure practicality – it does no one any good to head home if Merlin doesn’t think he can keep it up once they get there. He thinks tonight he probably could, with Gwaine in the skin tight leather pants and a biker jacket, lips already swollen from kissing other people and cock clearly outlined against his thigh. He thinks he probably could, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to give this night to Gwaine, do whatever he can to make it as good as it can be for him. And he knows full well how much Gwaine gets off on the idea of someone catching him in the act.

 

“Wanna stay here,” he says. He knows he’s made the right choice when Gwaine ruts against him and groans, his head dropping down so his forehead rests against Merlin’s shoulder.

 

“You’re killing me here,” he mumbles. He already sounds pretty gone and Merlin wonders vaguely if he can make him come more than once tonight, fuck the first orgasm out of him before switching. For Merlin even one orgasm a night is a success, but he’s seen Gwaine do four in one go once (though not with him) and it was a glorious night for them both.

 

He arches his back off the wall and rubs against Gwaine. His cock is starting to perk up too so he wraps his legs around Gwaine’s waist and lets Gwaine take all of his weight. “Come on,” he says, “take me.”

 

“Hopefully the other way around tonight,” Gwaine mumbles and Merlin can’t help but laugh. He doesn’t tell Gwaine where to go, leaves it up to him; he’s not particularly interested in having slow marathon sex in a dingy club bathroom, but he figures it’s Gwaine’s pick tonight and if they end up there, they can always do it quick and rough. Gwaine heads in the opposite direction though, more than aware by now that Merlin would pick those and Merlin feels a surge of fondness which is somewhat at odds with the situation. He rests his head on Gwaine’s shoulder and kisses the side of his neck gently.

 

“Thanks,” he whispers, not even sure Gwaine can hear him. Gwaine pats his back in response.

 

*

 

It’s not always perfect. It doesn’t always work. It’s dozens of nights that end in frustration for one or both of them, it’s dozens of little arguments and it’s more than a fair share of jealous fights and there are times when Merlin feels like he’s not enough and when he gets insecure and when he wants to give up (and there are times when Gwaine hugs him and holds him close and tells him he loves him no matter what, tells him they can forget about the whole thing, never have sex together or with anyone else ever again because that’s not what matters, because to him Merlin is worth so much more than that) and he knows there are times when Gwaine wonders if this is the best they can both do and if they should maybe take a break, try something else. But through it all there is one thing Merlin never doubts, that they love each other. It’s the fact that he knows that, that even when they argue and even when they’re distant, he can _feel_ it, he can be sure that he’s safe, that if he needed anything Gwaine would be there, that’s what makes him stay. They always work it out in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> find me [on tumblr](http://captivekinqs.tumblr.com)


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